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GABRIELE   D'ANNUNZIO 


NEW  YORK 
DUFFIELD    &    COMPANY 


1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1896,  BY 
HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  CO. 


This  edition  published  July^  igob^  by 
Dujffield  &f  Company 


Introduction 

'T^HE  name  of  Gabriele  d^Annunxio  is  known 
•^  to  but  few  of  those  who  make  up  the  read- 
ing public  in  this  country y  and  so  in  presenting  the 
first  translation  from  the  work  of  this  young 
Italian  that  has  been  published  on  this  side  of  the 
water,  a  few  words  of  introduction  to  the  man 
and  his  writings  seem  essential. 

With  the  first  translations  of  his  work  into 
French,  now  several  years  ago,  his  name  became 
known  at  once  in  all  the  literary  circles  of  Europe, 
He  has  found  an  incomparable  translator  in  M, 
d^Herelle,  and  is,  perhaps,  to-day  more  widely 
known  in  France  than  in  his  own  country,  Henry 
James  once  said  of  him  :  ''  He  speaks  so  loud  that 
one  hears  him  well  only  from  a  distance,'*^ 

Appearing  upon  their  horizon  as  he  did,  at  a 
time  when  the  French  were  beginning  to  tire  of 
the  Humanitarian  and  Socialist  novelists  of  Russia, 
and  of  the  Individualist  Norwegian  dramatists. 


293109 


Introduction 


this  mariy  with  his  rare  faculty  of  looking  at  life 
both  from  without  and  from  within ^  won  a  more 
instant  recognition  than  might  otherwise  have 
been  his, 

''  The  Romantic  poet  of  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance "  —  this  is  what  Jules  Lemaitre  has  called 
him  —  is  afresh  blossoming  of  that  genius  whose 
bright  smile  has  so  often  warmed  our  hearts. 
After  the  half-century  of  unusual  sterility  which 
lasted  until  the  completion  of  Italian  unity  in 
iSyo,  the  Italian  brain  began  to  work  again,  and 
the  Peninsula  became  first  the  school  of  criminalo- 
gists  and  physiologists,  and  now  scattered  through- 
out the  country  are  a  number  of  writers  of  travel, 
of  fiction,  and  of  verse,  whose  work  entitles  them 
to  recognition  not  only  at  home,  but  abroad,  Ed- 
mondo  de  Amicis,  D^ Annunzio,  Carducci,  Fogaz- 
zaro,  Rovetta,  Mathilde  Serao,  Giovanni  Verga, 
all  have  international  reputations.  Of  these  men, 
Gabriele  d^Annunzio,  the  poet-novelist,  is  the 
writer  of  greatest  prominence  in  Italy,  and  some 
think  one  of  the  most  unique  figures  in  contempo- 
rary literature.  He  is  not  yet  thirty-three  years 
old.  In  i88j  he  published  a  volume  of  verse,  the 
*^ Canto  Nuovo,  P Intermezzo  di  Rime^^  exqui- 
site in  art,  but  so  daringly  erotic  as  to  cause  the 
vi 


Introduction 


same  sort  of  a  scandal  in  Italy  that  was  produced 
in  England  when  Swinburne^ s  ^'  Poems  and  Bal- 
lads "  first  appeared.  This  was  followed  by  other 
poems  which  have  caused  him  to  be  ranked  by  so 
eminent  a  critic  as  M»  Eugene  Melchior  de  VogUe 
as  the  foremost  of  modern  Italian  poets. 

Z)'  Annunxio  has  related  with  perfect  frankness 
the  effect  upon  himself  of  the  sudden  success  which 
followed  his  early  efforts,  *^  Every  one  sought 
me,  burned  incense  before  me,  made  a  god  of  me y*^ 
he  says,  '*  7  appealed  especially  to  women.  In 
this  lay  a  great  danger  for  me.  Praise  intoxi- 
cated me.  Eager  for  its  pleasures,  I  threw  myself 
desperately  into  life  with  all  my  youthful  ardor,  I 
committed  fault  after  fault,  I  skirted  a  thousand 
precipices,  A  sort  of  aphrodisiacal  madness  took 
hold  of  me,  I  published  a  little  book  of  poems 
entitled  ^  Intermezzo  di  Rime,^  where  in  plastic 
verse  of  faultless  prosody  I  sang  of  all  the  pleasures 
of  the  fleshy  with  a  shamelessness  which  I  have 
never  seen  except  in  the  freest  poets  of  the  XVI, 
and  XVII,  centuries.  As  was  just,  I  began  to 
pay  for  my  mistakes,  my  dissipations,  my  excesses, 

^  I  began  to  suffer  with  the  same  intensity  with 
which  I  had  enjoyed.     Suffering  made  a  new  man 

\  of  me.     The  works  of  Tolstoi  and  of  Dostoievsky 
vii 


Introduction 


helped  to  develop  new  feelings  within  me.  And 
now  that  my  art  was  ripe,  I  succeeded  at  once  in 
expressing  my  new  conception  of  life  in  a  complete 
and  organic  whole,  —  in  my  novel  called  V  In- 
nocente. ' ' 

//  is  evident  that  he  himself  considers  the  novel 
his  chosen  vehicle  of  expression,  and  his  have  thus 
far  been  the  revealers  of  his  own  interesting  if 
not  always  admirable  personality.  He  admits  that 
his  heroes  are  largely  portraits  of  himself.  In 
his  latest  work,  the  ^^Vergine  delle  Rocce,"*^  may 
be  found  a  passage  which  expresses  in  a  few  words 
his  attitude  toward  life,  "  Pt^^^  ^^  to  my  an- 
cestors,^^  he  says,  '^  who,  from  the  remote  cen- 
turies, have  transmitted  to  me  their  rich  and 
fervid  blood.  Praise  be  to  them,  now  and  for- 
ever, for  the  glorious  wounds  they  opened,  for  the 
glorious  conflagrations  they  kindled,  for  the  fair 
goblets  they  drained,  for  the  fair  garments  they 
wore,  for  the  fair  women  they  enjoyed,  for  all 
their  slaughters  and  intoxications,  their  extrava- 
gances and  excesses,  since  thus  they  formed  in  me 
these  five  senses  in  which  thou,  O  Beauty  of  the 
World,  canst  vastly  and  profoundly  mirror  thyself 
as  in  five  vast  and  profound  seas, ' '  His  worship 
of  beauty,  in  nature,  in  art,  in  music,  is  a  reli- 
viii 


Introduction 


gion  with  him  so  far  as  he  can  be  said  to  have  a 
religion.     His  is  rather  a  beautiful  paganism^ 
which ^  to  use  his  own  words  once  more,  *'  indis- 
solubly  reunites  art  to  life,  art  the  discoverer  of 
truth,  creator  of  beauty,  purveyor  of  joy, ^^ 

M,  de  Vogue,  who  has  written  a  masterly 
criticism  of  U*  Annunzio  and  his  writings,  defends 
himself  for  praising  so  highly  works  which  have 
but  a  distant  relation  to  morals  by  pointing  out 
that  Z)'  Annunzio  is  never  vulgar,  that  the  breath 
of  art  is  over  all,  that  his  works  are  the  result  of 
spontaneous,  irresistible  temperament,  and  not  of 
speculation ;  ^hat  a  Rabelais  or  a  Boccaccio,  a 
Loti  or  a  D*  Annunzio\ive  expression  to  their  own 
natures,  and  that  they  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  literary  tradesmen  who  write  to  satisfy 
a  certain  public. 

The  three  novels  upon  which  D^  Annunzio' s 
reputation  mainly  rests  each  bears  upon  its  title- 
page  the  words  "  Romances  of  the  Rose, ' '  These 
are  *^  Piacere,^*  which  appeared  in  i88g,  ^^  V  In- 
nocent e,"*^  in  i8g2,  and  "  Trionfo  della  Morte,^^ 
in  18^4,  Of  the  latter  M,  de  VogUd  says  that 
it  has  a  right  to  be  known  as  one  of  the  master- 
books  of  our  time.  They  are  all  three  accessible 
in  French,  but  are  hardly  translatable  into  Eng- 
ix  ^ 


In  TROD  UCTION 


lish.  He  now  promises  as  a  sequel  to  these y  and 
in  contrast  to  them,  a  second  series  to  be  called 
'*  Romances  of  the  Z/i^,"  —  *'  Don  Juan  Con- 
verted,''^ to  quote  M»  Rh^  Doumic,  — in  which 
we  may  look  for  something  upon  a  distinctly  higher 
moral  plane »  The  *^  Vergine  delle  Rocce,^  the 
first  of  the  new  series y  has  just  been  issued. 

In  the  '*  Trionfo  delle  Morte,^  George  Aurispa 
finally  dies  and  drags  Hippolyte  to  her  death,  be- 
cause he  ^^  cannot  make  his  life  correspond  to  his 
dreams,^^  In  this  book  D^Jnnunzio  succeeds 
where  Tolstoi  failed,  in  convincing  us  that  sen- 
suality leads  to  crime.  The  conclusion  is  as  irre- 
sistible as  the  catastrophe  in  a  Greek  tragedy. 
We  see  as  we  follow  the  course  of  this  story  the 
verification  of  the  law  that  a  love  which  is  purely 
earthly  can  find  complete  satisfaction  only  in  death. 

Of  his  hero  D"*  Annunzio  says,  **  No,  his 
wretchedness  was  not  caused  by  any  human  being, 
it  came  from  the  essence  of  life  itself!  He 
should  have  complained,  not  of  the  loved  one,  but 
of  love  itself.  Love,  toward  which  his  whole 
being  reached  out  with  invincible  impetuosity, 
love  is  of  all  the  sorrows  of  this  earth  the  most 
lamentable, '*^ 

''  I  think  you  love  me,^^  says  George  to  Hippo- 
's. 


Introduction 


lyte  ;  '^  but  can  you  prove  to  me  that  to-morrow y 
or  in  a  month ,  or  in  a  year,  you  will  be  just  as 
happy  to  be  mine  ?  Can  you  prove  to  me  that  to- 
day,  even  at  this  very  moment,  you  are  wholly 
mine  ?  Tou  are  unknown  to  me.  As  with  every 
other  human  being  there  is  within  you  a  world 
that  is  impenetrable  to  me,  to  which  no  depth  of 
passion  can  give  me  access.  Of  your  sensations, 
your  sentiments,  your  thoughts,  I  know  but  a  small 
part ;  speech  is  but  an  imperfect  sign.  The  soul 
is  incommunicable,  Tou  cannot  show  me  your  souL 
In  our  most  ecstatic  moments  we  are  two,  always 
two,  separate,  strangers,  lonely  at  heart,"*"*  He 
is  jealous  even  of  the  memories  which  come  be- 
tween this  woman  and  himself,  of  the  world  in 
which  she  lives,  of  the  occupations  of  her  daily 
life.  He  tries  to  carry  out  a  dream  that  they 
should  go  together  to  some  spot  where  they  can  be 
all  the  universe  to  one  another,  where  she  can  see 
and  hear  and  know  him  and  him  alone.  When 
gradually  he  finds  that  even  this  fails  ;  that  his 
love  dies  ;  that  disgust  with  himself,  and  aversion 
for  the  woman,  grow  stronger  day  by  day,  —  his 
irresistible  impulse  is  to  kill  both  her  and  himself 
He  cannot  live  with  her,  he  cannot  escape  from 
her  dominion,  and  so  they  die  together. 


Introduction 


D\Annunzio  tells  us  that  Goethe  and  Shelley 
have  been  his  two  asthetic  gods,  Paul  Bourget 
his  master  in  the  art  of  writing.  He  has  also 
been  strongly  under  the  dominion  of  Tolstoi  and 
of  Dostoievsky,  *^  Giovanni  Episcopo  "  shows  the 
unmistakable  influence  of  Dostoievsky* s  "  Mar- 
meladof*"*  In  fact,  he  is  accused  of  flat  plagia- 
rism in  France,  especially  of  borrowing  from 
Josephin  Peladan,  His  eclecticism,  to  call  it  by 
no  stronger  term,  has  caused  his  work  to  be  com- 
pared to  that  of  many  totally  different  writers, 
to  each  of  whom  his  susceptible  nature  undoubt- 
edly owes  much.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned 
Baudelaire,  Flaubert,  Thhphile  Gautier,  Mau- 
passant, Catulle  Mendh,  and  in  England  Dante 
Gabriel  Rossetti.'  His  very  eclecticism  makes  it 
a  difficult  matter  to  classify  him.  If  we  judge 
him  from  some  of  his  earlier  and  shorter  stories, 
— from  Episcopo  itself,  for  instance,  —  we  should 
call  him  a  realist  of  the  realists,  and  the  same 
qualities  come  out  in  certain  parts  of  his  longer 
works,  where  the  psychological  bent  is  on  the  whole 
much  stronger.  [His  more  recent  works  show  a 
decided  tendency\  toward  symbolism.  Their 
rhythmic  and  reiterated  phrases  are  very  sugges- 
tive of  Maeterlinck. 

xii 


Introduction 


The  time  has  not  come  to  pass  a  final  judgment 
on  D*  Annunxid*s  work.  But  when  his  latest 
novely  ^' Fergine  delle  Rocce^"*  is  translated  into 
English y  as  it  is  almost  sure  to  be,  it  will  be  found 
to  withstand  two  tests  of  really  great  literature  ; 
namely,  that  something  shall  survive  the  first 
reading  of  the  book,  and  that  it  shall  be  impos- 
sible to  read  it  only  once, 

Myrta  Leonora   'Jones. 
June,  1896. 


ziu 


Episcopo  and  Company 

PART   I 

You  say  you  want  to  know — what  do 
you  want  to  know,  sir  ?  What  must  I 
tell  you  ?  What  ?  Everything  ?  Well,  I 
must  tell  you  all  from  the  beginning ! 

Jll  from  the  beginning  !  How  can  I  ? 
I  no  longer  know ;  I  assure  you  I  remem- 
ber nothing.  How  shall  I  do  it,  sir ;  how 
shall  I  do  it  ? 

Ah,  my  God,  it  was  this  way  —  Wait, 
if  you  please ;  a  little  patience,  I  beg  you, 
because  I  cannot  find  the  words  j  even 
though  I  could  remember  about  it,  I 
should  not  know  how  to  tell  it.  When 
I  was  living  among  people  I  was  taciturn, 
taciturn  even  after  drinking,  always  — 

No,  no;  not  always.  With  him  I 
talked,  but  only  with  him.     Sometimes  on 


Et'Xscopd  AND  Company 


summer  nights  in  the  suburbs,  or  even  in 
the  public  gardens,  he  would  put  his  arm 
in  mine,  his  poor  thin  arm,  so  emaciated  I 
could  hardly  feel  it,  and  we  would  walk 
together  discussing  things. 

Eleven  years  —  think,  sir,  he  was  but 
eleven  years  old,  and  he  argued  like  a 
man,  he  was  sad  like  a  man.  It  seemed 
as  though  he  already  knew  life,  —  all  of 
life,  —  and  that  he  was  suffering,  always 
suffering.  His  lips  were  already  familiar 
with  bitter  words,  —  words  which  do  so 
much  harm,  and  are  never  forgotten ! 

Are  there  people  who  never  forget  any- 
thing ?  As  I  told  you,  I  no  longer  know 
anything,  I  remember  nothing —  Oh, 
that  is  not  true  ! 

I  remember  everything,  everything, 
everything  !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  recall  his 
words,  his  gestures,  his  look,  his  tears, 
his  sighs,  his  cries,  the  most  trifling  pecu- 
liarities of  his  existence,  everything  from 
the  hour  he  was  born  until  the  hour  he 
died. 


Episcopo  and   Company 

He  is  dead.  It  is  sixteen  days  now  since 
he  died.  And  I,  I  am  still  living !  But 
I  ought  to  die;  and  soon  I  shall  die,  it 
will  be  better  so.  My  child  wants  me  to 
join  him.  Every  night  he  comes,  sits 
down,  looks  at  me.  He  is  barefooted, 
poor  Giro !  I  have  to  strain  my  ears  to 
distinguish  his  steps.  As  soon  as  night 
falls  I  am  continually,  continually  on  the 
watch ;  and  when  he  puts  his  foot  on  the 
sill,  it  is  as  though  he  put  it  on  my  heart ; 
but  softly,  so  softly,  without  hurting  me, 
light  as  a  feather  —  poor  soul  ! 

Every  night  now  he  is  barefooted.  But 
believe  me,  never  while  he  was  alive,  never 
did  he  go  barefooted ;  never,  I  swear  it  to 
you. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  something.  Pay 
strict  attention.  If  any  one  dear  to  you 
should  die,  take  care  that  he  wants  for 
nothing  in  his  coffin.  Dress  him  with 
your  own  hands  if  you  can;  dress  him 
completely,  carefully,  as  though  he  were 
to  come  back  to  life,  to  arise,  to  go  forth. 
3 


Episcopo  and   Company 

He  who  is  about  to  leave  this  world  should 
want  for  nothing  —  nothing.  Remember 
that. 

Well,  look  at  these  little  shoes  —  Have 
you  children  ?  No.  Then  you  cannot 
know,  you  cannot  understand,  what  this 
poor  little  pair  of  shoes  which  have  held 
his  feet,  which  keep  the  very  form  of  his 
feet,  are  to  me.  I  could  never  tell  you, 
no  father  could  ever  tell  you,  none. 

At  the  moment  when  they  entered  the 
room,  when  they  came  to  take  me,  were 
not  all  his  garments  there  on  the  chair 
beside  the  bed  ?  Why,  then,  did  I  think 
only  of  the  shoes  ?  Why  did  I  look  so 
anxiously  under  the  bed  for  them,  with  the 
feeling  that  my  heart  would  break  if  I  did 
not  find  them  ?  Why  did  I  hide  them  as 
if  a  part  of  his  life  were  left  in  them  ?  Oh, 
you  cannot  understand. 

In  the  mornings  in  winter,  when  it  came 

time  for  school,    the    poor  child  suffered 

from  chilblains  so  that  in  winter  his  feet 

were  one  sore,  all  bleeding.     It  was  I  who 

4 


Episcopo  and   Company 

used  to  put  on  his  shoes,  who  put  them  on 
myself.  I  knew  so  well !  Then  I  used 
to  lean  down  to  lace  them,  and  I  would 
feel  his  hands,  already  trembling  with 
cold,  resting  on  my  shoulders;  and  I 
would  try  to  be  slow  —  But  you  cannot 
understand. 

When  he  died  he  had  only  one  pair, 
the  ones  you  see.  And  I  took  them  from 
him.  And  they  buried  him  like  that,  like 
a  poor  little  boy.  Did  no  one  love  him 
but  his  father  ? 

And  now,  every  night,  I  take  those  two 
shoes  and  I  put  them,  one  beside  the  other, 
on  the  threshold  for  him.  Does  he  see 
them  as  he  passes  ?  Perhaps  he  sees  them, 
but  he  does  not  touch  them.  Perhaps  he 
knows  that  I  should  lose  my  mind  if  I  did 
not  find  them  there  in  their  places  in  the 
morning,  one  beside  the  other. 

Do  you  think  me  mad  ?    No  ?    I  thought 

I  saw  it  in  your  face.     No,  sir,  I  am  not 

mad  yet.     What  I  am  telling  you  is  the 

truth.     It  is  all  true.     The  dead  do  re- 

5 


Episcopo  and  Company 

turn.     He  returns  too,  the  other^  sometimes. 
How  horrible,  oh,  how  horrible  ! 

Look;  I  have  trembled  as  I  do  now 
whole  nights  through.  My  teeth  have 
chattered  in  spite  of  me ;  I  have  felt  that 
terror  would  dislocate  my  bones  from  their 
joints ;  I  have  felt,  when  morning  came, 
that  my  hair  was  like  needles  on  my  head, 
stiff,  standing  on  end.  Is  not  my  hair  all 
white  ?     It  is  all  white,  is  it  not  ? 

Thank  you,  sir.  You  see  I  do  not 
tremble  now.  How  many  days  of  life 
would  you  give  me,  judging  by  my  looks  ? 
You  know  I  must  die,  and  the  sooner  the 
better. 

Yes,  yes,  I  am  calm,  perfectly  calm.  I 
will  tell  you  everything  from  the  beginning, 
as  you  wish ;  everything  in  order.  My 
reason  has  not  yet  abandoned  me,  believe 
me. 

Well,  it  was  this  way.  It  was  in  a 
house  in  a  new  part  of  town,  a  sort  of 
common  boarding-house,  twelve  or  thirteen 
6 


Episcopo  and   Company 

years  ago.  There  were  twenty  of  us,  all 
*  clerks,  some  young  and  some  old.  We 
dined  together  in  the  evening  at  the  same 
hour,  at  the  same  table.  We  were  all 
more  or  less  acquainted,  although  we  were 
not  all  from  the  same  office.  It  was 
there  where  I  knew  Wanzer,  Giulio 
Wanzer,  twelve   years  ago. 

Did  —  did  you  see  —  the  corpse  ?  Did 
it  not  seem  to  you  that  there  was  some- 
thing extraordinary  in  the  face,  in  the 
eyes  ?  Ah,  I  forget,  the  eyes  were  closed 
—  not  both  of  them,  however,  not  both. 
I  know  that  well.  I  must  die  if  only  to 
rid  my  fingers  of  the  feeling  of  that  eyelid 
which  resisted.  I  feel  it  here  always,  as 
if  a  bit  of  the  skin  had  stuck  on  the  spot. 
Look  at  my  hand.  Is  it  not  a  hand  that 
has  already  begun  to  die  ?     Look  at  it. 

Yes,  it  is  true.     There  is  no  use  think- 
ing about  it.     Pardon  me.     No.     I  will 
come    to   the    point.     Where    were   we  ? 
At  the  beginning  it  went  so  well.     Then 
7 


Episcopo  and   Company 

all  at  once  I  lost  myself.  No  doubt  it  is 
because  I  have  been  fasting,  nothing  else, 
no,  nothing  else.  For  almost  two  days  I 
have  eaten  nothing. 

I  remember  that  formerly  when  my 
stomach  was  empty  I  had  a  sort  of 
vertigo  —  so  strange  !  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  fainting.     I  saw  things. 

Ah,  I  have  it.  You  are  right.  I  was 
saying  that  it  was  there  I  made  Wanzer's 
acquaintance.  He  ruled  every  one  there  ; 
he  oppressed  every  one ;  he  would  not 
allow  any  one  to  contradict  him.  He  was 
always  loud,  sometimes  violent.  Never 
an  evening  passed  without  some  alterca- 
tion. We  hated  him  and  we  feared  him 
as  a  tyrant.  All  spoke  ill  of  him,  com- 
plained, plotted,  but  no  sooner  did  he  ap- 
pear than  the  most  rabid  became  silent. 
The  more  timid  smiled  on  him,  flattered 
him.     What  was  there  about  this  man  ? 

I  myself  do  not  know.  At  the  table  I 
sat  almost  opposite  him,  and  involuntarily 
I  constantly  looked  at  him.  I  felt  a 
8 


Episcopo  and   Company 

strange  sensation  which  I  am  incapable  of 
expressing,  —  a  mixture  of  repulsion  and 
attraction,  something  indefinable.  It  was 
a  malevolent,  a  very  malevolent  magnetism, 
which  this  strong,  sanguine,  brutal  man 
exercised  upon  me,  so  weak  ever  since 
that  time,  and  sickly  and  lacking  in  will- 
power; and,  to  conceal  nothing,  some- 
thing of  a  coward. 

One  evening,  toward  the  close  of  the 
meal,  a  dispute  arose  between  Wanzer 
and  a  certain  Ingletti,  whose  place  was 
next  to  mine.  According  to  his  habit, 
Wanzer  raised  his  voice  and  became 
angry.  Ingletti,  with  a  hardihood  that 
came  perhaps  from  wine,  opposed  him.  I 
remained  silent,  almost  motionless,  not 
daring  to  lift  my  eyes,  which  were  fixed 
on  my  plate.  I  felt  a  horrible  contrac- 
tion in  my  stomach.  Suddenly  Wanzer 
seized  a  glass  and  threw  it  at  his  antago- 
nist. It  missed  him  and  the  glass  broke 
on  my  forehead,  there,  where  you  see 
that  gash. 

9 


Episcopo  and   Company 

As  soon  as  I  felt  the  warm  blood  on  my 
face,  I  lost  consciousness.  When  I  came 
to,  my  head  was  bandaged.  Wanzer  was 
at  my  side  with  doleful  mien ;  in  a  few 
words  he  excused  himself  to  me.  He 
took  me  back  to  the  house,  the  doctor  go- 
ing with  us ;  he  assisted  at  the  second 
dressing  of  the  wound ;  he  insisted  upon 
remaining  in  my  room  until  a  late  hour. 
He  returned  the  next  morning;  he  re- 
turned often.  And  this  was  the  beginning 
of  my  slavery. 

No  attitude  toward  him  was  possible  to 
me  save  that  of  a  dog  that  is  afraid. 
When  he  came  to  my  room,  he  took  on 
the  air  of  a  master.  He  opened  my  drawers, 
combed  his  hair  with  my  comb,  washed 
his  hands  in  my  basin,  smoked  my  pipe,  rum- 
maged among  my  papers,  read  my  letters, 
took  away  things  he  wanted.  Every  day 
his  tyranny  became  more  unbearable ;  and 
every  day  my  soul  grew  more  degraded, 
more  cringing.  I  had  no  longer  the 
shadow  of  a  will  j  I  submitted  simply  with- 


Episcopo   and   Company 

out  a  protest.  At  one  stroke  he  robbed  me 
of  all  feeling  of  human  dignity,  with  as 
much  ease  as  he  would  have  pulled  a  hair 
from  my  head. 

Yet  I  had  not  grown  stupid.  No.  I 
was  conscious  of  all  that  I  did,  perfectly 
conscious  of  everything  ;  of  my  weakness, 
of  my  abjectness,  and  particularly  of  the 
absolute  impossibility  of  freeing  myself 
from  the  ascendency  of  this  man.  I  can- 
not explain  to  you,  for  example,  the  pro- 
found and  obscure  feeling  which  my  scar 
aroused  in  me.  And  I  cannot  explain  to 
you  the  extreme  agitation  which  seized  me 
one  day  when  my  tormentor  took  my 
head  in  his  hands  to  examine  this  scar, 
still  fresh  and  inflamed.  He  passed  his 
finger  over  it  several  times  and  said, — 

"  It  is  perfectly  closed.  In  a  month 
it  will  have  disappeared.  You  can  thank 
God." 

It  seemed  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  that 
from  that  moment  I  bore  on  my  brow,  not 
a  scar,  but  a  badge  of  servitude,  an  infa- 
II 


Episcopo  and   Company 

mous,  conspicuous  mark,  which  I  would 
carry  all  my  life. 

I  followed  him  everywhere  he  wished ; 
I  waited  long  hours  for  him,  in  the  street, 
in  front  of  doorways ;  I  sat  up  nights  to 
copy  papers  for  him;  I  carried  his  let- 
ters from  one  end  of  Rome  to  the  other ; 
a  hundred  times  I  climbed  the  stairs  of 
the  Mont-de-Piete ;  I  ran  breathless  from 
money-lender  to  money-lender,  to  get  him 
the  money  which  was  to  be  his  salvation ; 
a  hundred  times  I  have  stood  behind  his 
chair  in  a  gambling-house  until  dawn, 
dying  with  fatigue  and  disgust,  kept  awake 
by  his  blasphemy  and  by  the  acrid  smoke 
which  burned  my  throat ;  and  my  cough 
irritated  him,  and  he  blamed  me  for  his 
ill-luck;  and  then  when  we  left,  if  he  had 
lost,  he  dragged  me  after  him  like  a  rag, 
through  deserted  streets,  in  the  thick  fog, 
swearing  and  gesticulating,  until  such  time 
as  some  shadow,  appearing  at  a  turn, 
would  offer  us  a  glass  of  brandy. 

Ah,  sir,  who  will    unveil    for   me   this 

12 


Episcopo  and   Company 

mystery  before  I  die  ?  Are  there  then 
on  this  earth  men  who,  meeting  other 
.  men,  can  do  with  them  what  they  will^ 
can  make  them  their  slaves  ?  Is  there 
then  a  way  of  taking  his  will  away  from  a 
man,  as  you  would  take  from  his  fingers  a 
wisp  of  straw  ?  Is  that  possible,  sir  ? 
Why  is  it  so  ? 

In  the  presence  of  my  persecutor  I 
could  never  exercise  my  will.  And  yet  I 
retained  my  intelligence.  My  mind  was 
full  of  thoughts,  I  understood  many  things. 
There  was  one  thing  above  all  that  I 
understood  well ;  and  that  was  that  I  was 
irremediably  lost.  In  the  depths  of  my 
soul  I  had  unceasingly  a  fear,  a  terror; 
and  from  the  night  of  my  injury  I  had  a 
fear  of  blood,  a  vision  of  blood.  The 
various  events  of  the  day  troubled  me, 
kept  me  from  sleeping.  Some  nights 
when,  on  my  return  with  Wanzer,  I  had 
to  pass  through  a  dark  passage-way,  I 
had  a  shiver  in  my  spine  if  the  matches 
were  slow  in  lighting,  and  I  began  to 
13 


Episcopo  and   Company 

feel  my  hair.  My  one  idea  was  that 
some  night  or  other  this  man  would 
assassinate  me. 

This  did  not  happen.  What  did  hap- 
pen was,  on  the  contrary,  the  thing  that  could 
not  happen,  I  believed  that  my  sure  des- 
tiny was  to  die  at  his  hands  some  night, 
abominably;  and  on  the  contrary  —  but 
listen.  That  night,  if  Wanzer  had  not 
come  to  Giro's  room  to  search,  if  I  had 
not  seen  the  knife  on  the  table,  if  some 
one  had  not  come  to  me  unexpectedly  and 
given  me  the  terrible  push,  if — 

Ah,  true.  You  are  right.  We  are 
only  at  the  beginning,  and  I  am  speaking 
of  the  end.  You  cannot  understand  if  I 
do  not  tell  you  the  whole  story.  Yet  I 
am  tired  already ;  I  am  growing  confused. 
I  have  nothing  more  to  tell  you  sir.  I 
am  light-headed,  light-headed ;  I  am  like  a 
bubble  full  of  air.  I  have  nothing  more 
to  tell.     Amen.     Amen. 

Come,  it  is  gone.     Thank  you.     You 
H 


Episcopo  and   Company 


are  very  good.  You  pity  me.  No  one 
on  earth  has  ever  pitied  me,  ever.  I  feel 
better ;  I  can  go  on.  I  am  going  to  speak 
to  you  of  her,  of  Ginevra. 

After  the  accident  of  the  glass  some  of 
our  comrades  left  the  house ;  others  de- 
clared that  they  would  remain  if  Giulio 
Wanzer  was  excluded.  Thence  it  came 
that  Wanzer  received  a  sort  of  warning 
from  the  landlady.  After  having  stormed 
against  every  one,  as  was  his  custom,  he 
left.  And  that  night  just  as  I  was  ready 
to  go  out,  he  wished  me  to  go  with  him, 
he  insisted  that  I  should  follow  him. 

For  a  long  time  we  wandered  from 
restaurant  to  restaurant,  coming  to  no  de- 
cision. There  was  nothing  more  melan- 
choly to  me  than  meal-time,  which  is 
ordinarily  an  hour  of  rest  and  sometimes 
of  forgetfulness  for  tired  people.  I  scarce- 
ly ate  at  all,  although  I  tried  to ;  the  noise 
made  by  the  jaws  of  my  fellow-boarders 
disgusted  me  more  and  more ;  formidable 
bull-dog  jaws  they  had,  that  could  have 
15 


Episcopo  and  Company 

crushed  steel.  Little  by  little  a  thirst 
was  kindled  within  me, — that  thirst  which, 
once  kindled,  lasts  until  death. 

But  one  night  Wanzer  left  me  free. 
The  next  day  he  announced  that  he  had 
discovered  a  very  pleasant  place  where  he 
wanted  to  take  me  at  once. 

"  I  have  the  very  thing.  You  will  see  ; 
it  will  please  you." 

In  fact,  the  new  place  was  perhaps 
better  than  the  old  one.  The  conditions 
suited  me.  Some  of  my  fellow-clerks 
were  there ;  several  of  the  others  were 
not  unknown  to  me.  I  stayed.  Besides, 
you  know,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  me  not  to  stay. 

The  first  night,  when  they  brought  the 
soup  to  the  table,  two  or  three  of  the 
boarders  asked  at  the  same  time  with  a 
singular  vivacity,  '^  And  Ginevra  ?  Where 
is  Ginevra  ?  "  It  was  said  that  Ginevra  was 
ill.  Then  all  inquired  about  her  illness. 
All  manifested  much  uneasiness.  But  it 
was  only  a  slight  indisposition.  In  this 
i6 


Episcopo  and   Company 

conversation,  the  name  of  the  absent  girl 
was  on  all  their  lips,  pronounced  in  the 
midst  of  ambiguous  sentences  which  be- 
trayed the  sensual  desires  that  disturbed  all 
these  men,  both  old  and  young.  I  tried 
to  catch  the  words  as  they  flew  from  one 
end  of  the  table  to  the  other.  Opposite 
me  a  young  libertine  spoke  at  length  and 
with  warmth  of  Ginevra's  mouth ;  and 
he  looked  at  me  as  he  spoke,  because  I  was 
listening  with  extraordinary  attention.  I 
remember  that  at  the  time  my  imagination 
formed  a  conception  of  the  absent  girl 
which  diiFered  very  little  from  the  real 
person  whom  I  saw  later.  I  always  re- 
member the  significant  gesture  Wanzer 
made,  and  the  greedy  expression  of  his 
lips  as  he  uttered  in  dialect  an  obscene 
thought.  I  remember  yet,  that  when  I 
went  out,  I  already  felt  within  me  the 
contagion  of  desire  for  this  unknown 
woman,  and  also  a  slight  uneasiness,  a 
certain  strange,  almost  prophetic  exaltation. 
We  went  out  together,  Wanzer  and  I, 
2  17 


Episcopo  and   Company 

and  a  friend  of  Wanzer's  named  Doberti ; 
the  one  who  had  spoken  of  her  mouth. 
As  we  walked  along  they  continued  to 
talk  between  themselves  of  coarse  pleas- 
ures, and  they  stopped  from  time  to  time 
to  laugh  at  their  leisure.  I  stayed  a  little 
behind  them.  A  melancholy  that  was 
almost  pain,  a  superabundance  of  obscure, 
confused  sensations  filled  my  heart,  already 
so  oppressed,  so  humiliated. 

After  twelve  years,  I  can  still  recall 
that  night.  I  have  forgotten  nothing,  not 
the  most  insignificant  details.  And  I 
know  now,  as  then  I  felt^  that  that  night 
decided  my  fate.  Who  sent  me  this 
warning  ? 

Is  it  possible  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  A 
simple  woman's  name  of  three  syllables 
opens  before  you  an  inevitable  abyss,  and 
in  vain  you  perceive  it,  you  know  it  is 
inevitable.     Is  that  possible? 

Presentiment,  clairvoyance,  inward  vis- 
ion —  Words,  nothing  but  words !  I 
have  read  books.  No,  no,  that  is  not  the 
i8 


Episcopo  and   Company 

way  things  happen.  Have  you  ever  exam- 
ined yourself?  Have  you  ever  watched 
your  own  soul  ? 

You  suffer.  Does  your  suffering  seem 
new  to  you,  never  before  felt  ?  You  en- 
joy. Does  your  joy  seem  new  to  you, 
never  before  felt  ?  Error,  illusion.  Every- 
thing has  been  felt,  everything  has  hap- 
pened. Your  soul  is  made  up  of  a 
thousand,  of  a  hundred  thousand  fragments 
of  souls  which  have  lived  a  complete  life, 
which  have  produced  all  phenomena, 
which  have  witnessed  all  phenomena.  Do 
you  understand  what  I  am  driving  at  ? 
Listen ;  for  what  I  tell  you  is  the  truth, 
the  truth  discovered  by  some  one  who  has 
spent  years  and  years  in  looking  constantly 
within  himself,  alone  among  men,  always 
alone.  Listen  well ;  for  it  is  a  more  im- 
portant truth  than  the  facts  you  like  to 
know.     When  — 

Another  time  ?  To-morrow  ?  Why 
to-morrow  ?  You  do  not  want  me  to 
explain  my  thought  ?  Ah,  facts,  facts, 
19 


Episcopo  and   Company 

always  facts  !  But  facts  are  nothing,  sig- 
nify nothing.  There  is  something  in  this 
world,  sir,  which  is  worth  much  more. 

Well,  here  is  another  enigma  !  Why 
did  the  real  Ginevra  resemble,  point  by 
point,  her  image  which  flamed  in  my 
spirit  ?  But  we  will  leave  that  —  After 
three  or  four  days'  absence,  she  appeared 
again,  carrying  in  the  soup,  the  steam  from 
which  partially  veiled  her  face. 

Yes,  sir,  she  was  a  servant,  and  she 
served  a  table  of  clerks. 

Have  you  seen  her  ?  Did  you  know 
her  ?  Have  you  spoken  to  her  ?  Has 
she  spoken  to  you  ?  If  so,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  you  also  have  felt  a  sudden  and 
inexplicable  sensation,  if  you  happened  to 
touch  her  hand. 

All  men  have  desired  her  ;  all  do  desire 
her,  covet  her ;  they  will  covet  her  al- 
ways. Wanzer  is  dead ;  but  she  will 
have  another  lover,  she  will  have  a  hun- 
dred other  lovers,  until  her  old  age,  until 
20 


I 


Episcopo   and   Company 

her  teeth  fall  out  of  her  mouth.  When 
she  passes  along  the  street,  the  prince  will 
turn  in  his  carriage,  the  man  in  rags  will 
stop  to  look  at  her.  In  all  eyes  I  have 
surprised  the  same  light,  I  have  seen  the 
same  obsession. 

However,  she  is  changed,  much  changed. 
Then  she  was  twenty  years  old.  I  have 
often  tried,  without  succeeding,  to  see  her 
again  just  as  she  was  when  I  saw  her  for 
the  first  time.  There  is  a  mystery  about 
this.  Have  you  never  noticed  it  ?  A 
man,  an  animal,  a  plant,  any  kind  of  an 
object,  shows  you  but  once  its  real  aspect, 
and  that  at  the  fugitive  moment  of  your 
first  perception.  It  is  as  though  it  gave 
you  its  virginity.  Immediately  after,  it  is 
no  longer  the  same,  it  is  something  else. 
Your  mind,  your  nerves,  have  made  it 
undergo  a  transformation,  a  falsification, 
an  obscuration.  And  to  the  devil  with 
truth ! 

Well,  I  have  always  envied  the  man 
who  looks  upon  this  creature  for  the  first 

21 


Episcopo  and   Company 

time.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  No,  of 
course  you  do  not.  You  think  that  I  am 
raving,  that  I  am  confused,  that  I  contra- 
dict myself.  That  is  nothing.  Let  us 
return  to  facts. 

A  room  lighted  by  gas,  overheated  with 
an  arid  heat  that  dries  the  skin ;  the  odor 
and  the  fumes  of  meats ;  a  confused  sound 
of  voices,  and  above  all  the  voices  the 
harsh  voice  of  Wanzer,  giving  to  each 
word  a  brutal  accent.  Then  from  time 
to  time,  an  interruption,  a  silence  which 
seems  to  me  fearful.  A  hand  touches  me, 
takes  the  plate  from  before  me,  puts  an- 
other in  its  place,  conveys  to  me  the  thrill 
of  a  caress.  This  thrill  each  one  at  the 
table  feels  in  turn ;  that  is  evident.  The 
heat  becomes  stifling,  ears  become  in- 
flamed, eyes  shine.  A  low,  almost  bestial 
expression  appears  on  the  faces  of  those 
men  who  have  eaten  and  drunk,  who  have 
attained  the  single  object  of  their  daily 
existence.  The  revelation  of  their  im- 
purity is  a  blow  to  me,  a  blow  so  cruel 

22 


Episcopo  and   Company 

that  I  feel  like  fainting.  I  take  a  firm 
hold  of  my  chair ;  I  draw  in  my  elbows  to 
increase  the  space  between  my  neighbors 
and  myself.  A  voice  cries  in  the  midst 
of  the  din,  ^'  Episcopo  has  the  colic." 
Another,  "  No  ;  he  is  playing  the  senti- 
mental. Did  you  not  see  his  face  when 
Ginevra  changed  his  plate  ?  " 

I  try  to  laugh.  I  raise  my  eyes  and  I 
meet  Ginevra's,  fixed  upon  me  with  an 
ambiguous  expression. 

She  leaves  the  room.  Then  Filippo 
Doberti  makes  a  mocking  proposition : 
"  My  friends,  there  is  no  other  solution. 
One  of  us  must  marry  her  —  for  the  sake 
of  the  others." 

Those  were  not  his  exact  words.  He 
used  the  obscene  word ;  he  named  the 
thing  and  the  r6le  which  the  others  would 
play. 

"  A  vote,  a  vote,  we  must  choose  the 
husband  ! " 

"  Episcopo  !  "  Wanzer   cries.     "  Epis- 
copo and  Company  ! " 
23 


Episcopo  and   Company 

The  tumult  increases.  Return  of  Gi- 
nevra,  who  has  perhaps  heard  all.  She 
smiles  with  a  calm  and  tranquil  smile 
which  makes  her  appear  intangible. 

"  Ask  her,  Episcopo,"  cries  Wanzer, 
Two  of  the  boarders,  with  feigned  grav- 
ity, advance  to  ask  in  my  name  for  Gi- 
nevra's  hand. 

"  I  will  think  of  it,"  she  answers  with 
her  habitual  smile. 

And  again  I  meet  her  glance. 

Truly  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am 
the  one  in  question  or  not ;  whether  it  is 
I  of  whom  they  speak,  whether  I  am  this 
Episcopo  at  whom  they  scolF.  And  I 
cannot  succeed  in  imagining  my  expres- 
sion at  that  moment  — 

A  dream,  a  dream,  this  whole  period  of 
my  life  seems  like  a  dream.  You  could 
never  understand  or  imagine  the  feeling  I 
had  about  myself.  In  a  dream  I  seemed 
to  live  over  again  a  phase  of  life  already 
lived  J  I  assisted  at  the  repetition  of  a  se- 
24 


Episcopo  and   Company 

ries  of  events  that  had  already  happened. 
When  ?  No  one  know"  CAt  the  most  I 
was  not  sure  that  I  was  myself.  Often  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  had  lost  my  personal- 
ity, and  again,  that  it  was  an  artificial  one. 
What  a  mystery  are  the  nerves  of  man  ! 

One  night  Ginevra  took  leave  of  us. 
She  announced  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
remain  in  service,  and  she  left  us.  She 
said  she  did  not  feel  well,  that  she  was 
going  to  Tivoli,  to  remain  several  months 
with  her  sister.  At  the  moment  of  part- 
ing every  one  offered  her  a  hand.  And 
she  smilingly  repeated  to  every  one,  "  Au 
revoir,  au  revoir." 

To  me  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  We  are 
engaged.  Monsieur  Episcopo.  Do  not 
forget  it." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  touched  her, 
the  first  time  I  had  looked  in  her  eyes  with 
the  intention  of  penetrating  to  her  heart. 
But  she  remained  an  enigma  to  me. 

The  next  evening  supper  was  almost 
lugubrious.  Every  one  had  a  disappointed 
25 


Episcopo  and   Company 

air.     Wanzer  said,  "  However,  Doberti's 
idea  was  not  a  bad  one." 

Whereupon  some  of  the  boarders  turned 
upon  me  and  made  more  stupid  jokes. 

The  companionship  of  these  imbeciles 
became  unbearable  to  me;  but  I  did  not 
attempt  to  get  away.  I  continued  to  fre- 
quent this  house,  where,  in  the  midst  of 
chattering  and  laughter,  I  found  food  for 
my  vague,  sweet  fancies.  During  weeks 
and  weeks,  in  spite  of  the  worst  sort  of 
material  embarrassment,  in  spite  of  the 
anxieties  and  terrors  of  my  slave's  life,  I 
tasted  all  that  is  most  delicate  and  most 
violent  of  the  agonies  of  love.  At  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age,  a  sort  of  unexpected 
and  belated  adolescence  blossomed  in  my 
soul,  with  all  the  languors,  all  the  tender- 
ness, all  the  tears  of  adolescence  — 

Ah,  sir,  imagine  this  miracle  in  such  a 
being  as  I  was,  already  old,  dishonored, 
withered  to  the  roots.  Picture  to  your- 
self a  flower  that  comes  out  unexpectedly 
at  the  end  of  a  dead  branch. 
26 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Another  extraordinary  and  sudden  event 
stupefied  and  upset  me.  For  several  days 
Wanzer  had  seemed  to  me  harder,  more 
irritable  than  usual.  He  had  spent  the 
last  five  or  six  nights  in  a  gambling-house. 
One  morning  he  came  to  my  room,  pale 
as  a  corpse,  threw  himself  on  a  chair, 
seemed  several  times  to  be  on  the  point 
of  speaking,  then  suddenly  decided  to  say 
nothing,  and  went  out  without  addressing 
a  single  word  to  me,  without  answering 
me,  without  looking  at  me. 

I  did  not  see  him  again  that  day.  I 
did  not  see  him  at  dinner.  I  did  not  see 
him  the  next  day.  While  we  were  at 
table,  Questori  entered.  He  was  a  col- 
league of  Wanzer's. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ? "  he 
asked.     "  Wanzer  has  run  away." 

At  first  I  did  not  understand,  or  rather 
I  was  incredulous  ;  but  my  heart  leaped 
to  my  throat.  Voices  asked,  "  What  do 
you  say  ?     Who  has  run  away  ?  " 

"  Wanzer,  Giulio  Wanzer." 
27 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Really  I  do  not  know  what  I  felt ;  but 
one  thing  is  sure,  my  first  emotion  was 
one  of  joy.  I  made  an  effort  to  re- 
press it.  Then  I  heard  the  torrent  of 
resentment,  of  rancor,  of  accumulated 
hatred  against  this  man  who  had  been  my 
master. 

"  And  you,"  cried  one  of  the  most 
rabid,  "  you  say  nothing,  you  ?  Did  not 
Wanzer  make  a  servant  of  you  ?  It  was 
you,  no  doubt,  who  carried  his  valise  to 
the  station  ? " 

Another  said,  "  You  have  been  marked 
on  the  forehead  by  a  thief.  You  will  be 
rich." 

This  was  the  way  they  insulted  me,  just 
for  the  pleasure  of  making  me  suffer,  be- 
cause they  knew  I  was  a  coward. 

I  arose ;  I  went  out.  I  walked  the 
streets,  wandering  in  search  of  adventure. 
Free,  free  !     I  was  free  at  last ! 

It  was  a  night  in  March,  calm,  almost 
warm.  I  walked  to  the  Four  Fountains ; 
I  sought  large  open  spaces  j  I  wished  to 
28 


Episcopo  and   Company 

drink  in  at  a  breath  an  immense  amount 
of  air,  to  gaze  at  the  stars,  to  listen  to  the 
murmur  of  water,  to  do  something  poetic, 
to  dream  of  the  future.  "  Free,  free  !  "  I 
constantly  repeated  to  myself,  "I  am  a 
free  man  !  "  —  I  was  seized  with  a  sort  of 
intoxication.  I  could  not  reflect  yet,  or 
collect  my  thoughts  or  examine  my  situa- 
tion. I  had  foolish  longings.  I  should 
have  liked  to  do  a  thousand  things  at  once, 
to  affirm  my  liberty.  As  I  passed  a  caf(§, 
I  heard  a  burst  of  music  which  moved  me 
deeply.  I  entered,  my  head  in  the  air. 
It  seemed  to  me  I  had  a  bold  look.  I 
ordered  cognac;  I  had  them  leave  the 
bottle  on  the  table ;  I  drank  two  or  three 
small  glasses. 

It  was  stifling  in  this  cafe.  The  act  of 
removing  my  hat  recalled  my  scar,  awak- 
ened the  memory  of  the  cruel  phrase, 
"  Your  forehead  has  been  marked  by  a 
thief."  Imagining  that  every  one  was 
looking  at  my  forehead  and  noticing  the 
cut,  I  thought,  "  What  will  they  think  ? 
29 


Episcopo   and   Company 

They  will,  perhaps,  believe  that  it  is  a 
wound  received  in  a  duel."  And  I,  who 
never  would  have  had  courage  to  fight, 
took  pleasure  in  this  thought.  If  any  one 
had  come  and  sat  down  beside  me,  I  should 
certainly  have  found  a  way  of  giving  him 
an  account  of  my  duel.  But  no  one 
came.  A  little  later  a  gentleman  entered, 
who  took  a  chair  opposite  me  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table ;  he  did  not  look  at  me, 
he  did  not  ask  permission,  he  did  not  even 
look  to  see  if  my  feet  were  on  the  chair. 
It  was  rude,  was  it  not  ? 

I  left ;  I  began  to  walk  the  streets  again 
at  random.  My  intoxication  left  me  all  at 
once.  Without  knowing  why  I  felt  in- 
finitely unhappy.  Little  by  little  a  vague 
uneasiness  took  the  place  of  my  stupor; 
this  uneasiness  increased  and  suggested  to 
me  a  thought :  "  What  if  he  were  in  hiding 
somewhere  in  Rome  ?  What  if  he  were 
walking  the  streets  in  disguise  ?  What  if 
he  were  in  the  shadow  of  my  staircase  ?  " 
I  was  afraid ;  I  turned  two  or  three  times 
39 


Episcopo  and   Company 

to  see  that  I  was  not  followed.  I  entered 
another  caft ;  it  seemed  a  refuge. 

Late,  very  late,  I  decided  to  go  to  my 
lodging.  Every  object,  every  sound,  made 
me  tremble  with  fear.  A  man  lying  on 
the  sidewalk  in  the  shadow  gave  me  a 
vision  of  a  corpse.  "  Oh,  why  did  he  not 
kill  himself?  "  I  thought.  "Why  did  he 
not  have  the  courage  to  commit  suicide?  It 
was  the  only  thing  for  him  to  do."  And 
then  I  saw  that  the  news  of  his  death 
would  have  given  me  more  relief  than  that 
of  his  flight. 

I  slept  but  little,  and  it  was  a  troubled 
sleep.  But  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  the 
blinds  were  open,  a  sense  of  satisfaction 
began  anew  to  pervade  my  being,  — a  singu- 
lar feeling  which  you  cannot  understand, 
because  you  have  never  been  a  slave. 

At  the  office  I  received  detailed  infor- 
mation about  Wanzer's  flight.  There 
was  talk  of  very  serious  irregularities  and 
of  the  removal  of  securities  from  the  cen- 
tral office  of  the  Treasury,  where  he  had 
3? 


Episcopo  and   Company 

been  employed  for  about  a  year.  A  war- 
rant had  been  issued  against  him,  but  with- 
out effect.  Some  were  sure  he  had  already 
succeeded  in  getting  to  a  safe  place. 

From  that  time,  certain  of  my  freedom, 
I  lived  for  my  love  alone,  for  my  secret. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  convalescent ; 
I  had  a  feeling  of  lightness  in  my  body ;  I 
wept  with  the  ease  of  a  child.  The  last 
days  of  March,  the  first  of  April,  were 
filled  with  joys  and  sorrows,  the  memory 
.  of  which,  now  that  I  am  dying,  consoles 
me  for  having  been  born. 

This  memory,  sir,  is  enough  to  make 
me  pardon  Giro's  mother,  the  woman  who 
has  done  me  such  harm.  You,  sir,  can- 
not understand  what  it  is  to  a  man,  hard- 
ened and  perverted  by  suiFering  and 
injustice,  to  find  revealed  his  own  latent 
goodness,  to  discover  a  spring  of  tender- 
ness in  the  depths  of  his  own  nature. 

You  cannot  understand,  perhaps  cannot 
even  believe,  what  I  tell  you.  Well,  I  say 
it  just  the  same.  There  are  moments 
32 


Episcopo  and   Company 

when,  God  pardon  me,  I  feel  something 
Christ-like  within  me.  I  have  been  the 
vilest  and  I  have  been  the  best  of  men. 
Come,  let  me  weep  a  little.  You  see  how 
my  tears  flow  ?  Many  years  of  martyrdom 
have  taught  me  to  weep  like  that,  without 
sobs,  without  sighs,  so  that  I  might  not  be 
heard,  might  not  give  pain  to  the  being 
who  loved  me,  might  not  annoy  the  being 
who  made  me  suffer.  Very  few  know 
how  to  weep  like  that.  Well,  sir,  that  at 
least  is  one  thing  that  I  beg  you  to  re- 
member and  give  me  credit  for.  After 
my  death  you  will  tell  them  that  all  his 
life  poor  Giovanni  Episcopo  at  least  knew 
how  to  weep  in  silence. 

How  did  it  happen  that  one  Sunday  — 
Palm  Sunday  —  I  found  myself  on  the 
train  on  the  road  to  Tivoli  ?  Truly  I  have 
but  a  confused  memory  of  it.  Was  it  a 
fit  of  madness  ?  Was  it  a  case  of  som- 
nambulism ?  I  do  not  know.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  was  enveloped  by  a  strange 
3  33 


Episcopo  and  Company 

atmosphere  which  isolated  me  from  the 
outside  world.  This  sensation  I  had,  not 
only  in  my  eyes,  but  in  my  skin.  I  do 
not  know  how  to  explain  it.  The  country, 
for  example,  that  country  I  was  crossing, 
seemed  indefinitely  distant,  separated  from 
me  by  an  incalculable  space. 

How  can  you  account  for  a  mental  state 
so  extraordinary  ?  All  that  I  describe 
must  necessarily  seem  to  you  absurd,  in- 
admissible, contrary  to  nature.  Just  im- 
agine that,  to  this  day,  my  life  has  passed 
in  this  sort  of  disorder,  in  this  confusion, 
in  these  anomalies,  almost  uninterruptedly, 
Paraesthesia,  dysaesthesia  —  they  have  told 
me  the  names  of  my  troubles ;  but  no  one 
has  known  how  to  cure  them.  During 
my  whole  life  I  have  been  on  the  verge  of 
insanity,  conscious  of  my  condition,  like 
the  man  who,  leaning  over  an  abyss,  ex- 
pects, from  one  moment  to  another,  the 
supreme  vertigo,  the  great  obscurity. 

How  does  it  seem  to  you  ?  Shall  I 
lose  my  reason  before  I  close  my  eyes  ? 
34 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Are  there  symptoms  of  it  in  my  face,  in 
my  words  ?  Answer  me  sincerely,  my 
dear  sir,  answer  me.  And  what  if  I 
should  not  die  ?  If  I  should  have  to  live 
on  in  an  asylum  with  mind  gone  ? 

No,  I  confess  it,  that  is  not  my  real 
fear.  You  know  —  it  is  that  they  may 
come  back,  both  of  them,  in  the  night. 
Some  night  Giro  will  surely  meet  the 
other  one ;  I  know  it ;  I  foresee  it.  And  — 
and  then  ?  an  explosion  of  wrath,  of  furi- 
ous passion  in  the  darkness —  My  God, 
my  God  !      Is  it  thus  that  I  shall  end  ? 

Hallucinations,  yes,  nothing  else.  You 
are  right.  Oh,  yes,  yes,  what  you  say  is 
true.  The  lighting  of  a  candle  will  be 
enough  to  make  me  rest,  to  make  me 
sleep.  Yes,  yes  ;  a  candle,  a  simple  candle. 
Thank  you,  sir. 

Where  were  we  ?  Oh,  yes,  at  Tivoli. 
A  penetrating  stench  of  sulphurous  water ; 
and  then  on  every  side,  olive-trees,  olive- 
trees,  groves  of  olive-trees ;  and  within  me 
35 


Episcopo  and   Company 

a  strange,  primitive  feeling  which  gradually 
disappears  as  if  absorbed  by  the  breeze 
from  the  moving  train.  I  get  out.  There 
are  people  in  the  streets  ;  the  palms  are 
bright  in  the  sunshine;  the" bells  ring  out. 
I  know  I  am  to  meet  her. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Episcopo  !   You  here  ?  " 

It  is  Ginevra's  voice;  it  is  Ginevra  in 
front  of  me,  her  hands  extended.  I  am 
completely  upset.  She  looks  at  me  and 
smiles,  waiting  for  me  to  manage  to  say 
something.  Is  it  the  same  woman  who 
waited  on  our  table,  in  that  room  filled 
with  smoke,  in  the  glare  of  the  gas  ?  Is  it 
possible  that  it  is  she  ? 

At  last  I  murmur  something. 

"  But  what  brings  you  here  ?  "  she  says, 
''  What  a  surprise  !  " 

''  I  am  here  to  see  you." 

"  You  remember  then  that  we  are  en- 
gaged ?  Here  is  my  sister,"  she  adds,  laugh- 
ing. "  Come  to  church  with  us.  You  will 
spend  the  day  with  us,  won't  you  ?  You 
will  play  your  part  of  lover  ?      Say  yes." 

36 


Episcopo  and   Company 

She  is  gay,  talkative,  full  of  unexpected 
graces,  full  of  new  seductions. 

She  wears  a  simple  dress,  unpretentious, 
yet  graceful,  almost  elegant.  She  asks 
for  news  of  the  others.  "  And  that  man 
Wanzer  ?  " 

She    has    heard   all    through   a    chance 
newspaper. 
''  You  were  great  friends,  were  n't  you  ?  '* 

I  do  not  answer.  There  is  a  short 
interval  of  silence,  and  she  seems  thought- 
ful. We  enter  the  church,  all  gay  with 
holy  palms.  She  kneels  beside  her  sister ; 
she  opens  her  prayer-book.  Standing  be- 
hind her,  I  look  at  her  neck,  and  the 
discovery  of  a  little  brown  mole  gives  me 
an  unspeakable  thrill.  At  that  moment 
she  turns  a  little  and  gives  me  a  sidewise 
look  from  her  eye. 

The  memory  of  the  past  disappears, 
anxiety  for  the  future  sleeps,  there  is  only 
the  present  hour ;  there  is  nothing  for  me 
on  this  earth  but  this  woman.  Without 
her  there  is  nothing  for  me  but  to  die. 
37 


Episcopo  and   Company 

As  we  go  out,  she  offers  me  a  palm. 
Without  speaking  I  look  at  her,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  this  look  makes  her 
understand  everything.  We  walk  along 
to  her  sister's.  They  ask  me  to  come 
up.  Ginevra  steps  to  the  balcony  say- 
ing, ''  Come  here ;  come  and  enjoy  the 
sunshine." 

Here  we  are  on  the  balcony,  near  each 
other.  We  are  bathed  in  sunshine ;  the 
sound  of  bells  passes  over  our  heads.  Soft- 
ly, as  though  speaking  to  herself,  she  says, 
"  Who  would  ever  have  thought  it  ?  " 

My  heart  swells  in  boundless  tender- 
ness. I  can  contain  myself  no  longer. 
"  Are  we  engaged,  then  ? "  I  ask,  in  an 
unrecognizable  voice. 

For  a  moment  she  is  silent.  Then 
softly  with  a  slight  blush  she  says,  dropping 
her  eyes,  "  Do  you  wish  it  ?  Well, 
then,  let  it  be  so." 

They  call  to  us  from  within.  There 
is  her  brother-in-law,  her  other  relatives. 
There    are    children.       I  take  my  role  of 

38 


Episcopo   and   Company 

fianc^  very  seriously  !  At  the  table  I  am 
at  Ginevra's  side.  For  one  moment  we 
press  hands  under  the  table,  and  I  feel 
that  I  shall  faint,  so  intense  is  the  rapture. 
From  time  to  time  the  brother-in-law,  the 
sister,  the  relatives,  look  at  me  with 
curiosity  mingled  with  amazement. 

''  How  is  it  that  no  one  has  known  any- 
thing about  it  ?  Why  have  you  not 
spoken  of  it,  Ginevra  ?  " 

We  smile ;  confused,  embarrassed,  as- 
tonished ourselves  at  the  event  which  came 
about  with  all  the  ease  and  absurdity  of  a 
dream  — 

Yes,  absurd,  incredible,  ridiculous;  ri- 
diculous above  all.  And  yet  that  is  what 
I  happened  in  this  world  between  me,  Gio- 
vanni Episcopo,  and  the  aforesaid  Ginevra 
Canale,  as  I  have  described  it,  exactly  as 
I  have  described  it. 

Ah,  sir,  you  can  laugh  if  you  wish.     I 
shall  not  be  offended.      The  tragic  comedy^ 
where    have  I    read   those  words .?     It  is 
39 


Episcopo   and   Company 

true ;  there  is  nothing  more  ignoble,  and 
nothing  more  atrocious. 

I  went  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  mother,  in 
an  old  house  in  the  Via  Montanara ;  I 
climbed  a  damp,  narrow  staircase ;  a  dubious 
greenish  almost  sepulchral  light  filtered 
through  a  small  window,  —  the  sort  of  thing 
one  does  not  forget.  I  have  it  all  in  my 
memory  !  As  I  went  up  I  stopped  at  al- 
most every  step,  because  it  seemed  to  me 
always  that  I  was  losing  my  balance,  as 
though  I  had  put  my  foot  on  moving  ice. 
The  farther  up  I  went,  the  more  this 
staircase  with  its  peculiar  light  struck  me 
as  strange,  full  of  mystery,  full  of  a  pro- 
found silence  in  which  incomprehensible 
voices  died  away.  Suddenly,  on  the  upper 
landing,  I  heard  a  door  open  violently, 
and  a  torrent  of  abuse  in  a  woman's  voice 
resounded  in  the  hall-way ;  then  the  door 
closed  again  with  a  slam,  which  made 
the  house  shake  from  top  to  bottom.  I 
trembled  with  fear,  and  I  stood  still,  not 
knowing  what  to  do.  A  man  came  slowly, 
40 


Episcopo  and   Company 

slowly,  down  the  stairs ;  he  seemed  to 
slide  along  close  to  the  wall  like  a  feeble 
thing.  He  grunted  and  groaned  under  his 
broad-brimmed  white  hat.  But  as  he 
knocked  against  me,  he  raised  his  head 
and  I  saw  a  pair  of  dark  glasses,  the  kind 
that  have  a  frame  around  them,  enormous 
glasses  that  stood  out  on  a  face  that  was 
as  red  as  a  piece  of  raw  meat. 

The  man,  taking  me  for  some  acquaint- 
ance, cried,  "  Pietro  !  "  He  seized  my 
arm,  and  I  felt  in  my  face  his  strong 
breath.  But  he  perceived  his  mistake  and 
went  on  down.  Then  I  began  to  mount 
again,  mechanically,  and  without  knowing 
why.  I  was  sure  that  I  had  met  one  of 
the  family.  I  found  myself  facing  a  door 
on  which  I  read,  "  Emilia  Canale,  agent 
of  the  Mont-de-Piete  !  "  with  the  autho- 
rization of  the  Royal  Questorship. 

To  put  an  end  to  the  discomfort  of  un- 
certainty I  pulled  the  bell-cord ;  but  with- 
out meaning  to,  I  pulled  so  hard  that  the 
bell  began  to  ring  furiously.  An  angry 
41 


Episcopo   and   Company 

voice  replied  from  within,  the  same  voice 
which  had  been  so  abusive;  the  door 
opened  ;  and  I,  in  a  sort  of  panic,  seeing 
nothing,  hearing  nothing,  said  breathlessly, 
"  I  am  Episcopo,  Giovanni  Episcopo,  clerk 
—  I  have  come,  you  know  —  for  your 
daughter  —  you  know  —  I  beg  pardon  — 
I  rang  too  hard." 

I  was  facing  Ginevra's  mother,  —  a 
woman  still  young  and  blooming.  It  was 
the  agent  herself,  with  her  gold  necklace, 
her  two  big  gold  ear-rings,  and  her  gold 
rings  on  every  finger.  Timidly  I  made 
my  proposal  of  marriage,  —  do  you  re- 
member ?  —  the  famous  proposal  suggested 
by  Filippo  Doberti ! 

Ah,  sir,  you  may  smile  if  you  wish.  I 
shall  not  take  offence. 

Am  I  to  tell  you  all,  minutely,  day  by 
day,  hour  by  hour  ?  Do  you  want  all  the 
little  scenes,  all  the  trifling  facts,  all  my 
life  at  this  time,  so  strange,  so  extravagant, 
so  comical,  and  so  miserable,  all^  up  to 
the  great  event  ?  Do  you  want  to  laugh  ? 
42 


Episcopo   and   Company 

Do  you  want  to  cry  ?  Nothing  easier 
than  to  tell  you  all.  I  read  in  my  past  as 
in  an  open  book.  A  great  clearness  comes 
to  a  man  who  is  near  his  end.  But  I  am 
tired,  I  am  weak.  And  you  too,  you  must 
be  a  little  tired.     I  must  cut  it  short. 

I  will.  I  obtained  her  consent  without 
difficulty.  The  agent  seemed  to  be  al- 
ready informed  as  to  my  business,  my 
salary,  my  position.  She  had  a  resonant 
voice,  decided  gestures,  a  wicked,  rapacious 
look,  which  was  at  times  wheedling,  al- 
most wanton,  like  Ginevra's.  As  we  stood 
speaking,  she  came  close  to  me,  she 
touched  me  constantly.  At  one  time 
she  would  give  me  a  little  cufF,  at  another 
she  would  pull  at  one  of  my  coat-buttons. 
She  would  brush  from  my  shoulders  a 
speck  of  dust,  or  pick  a  thread  or  a  hair 
from  my  clothing.  It  was  an  irritation,  a 
torture  to  all  my  nerves,  to  have  this 
woman  touch  me ;  this  woman  whose  fist 
I  had  just  seen  raised  in  her  husband's 
face. 

43 


Episcopo  and   Company 

For  the  man  on  the  staircase,  the  man 
in  the  green  goggles,  was  her  husband, 
poor  idiot ! 

He  had  been  a  printer,  but  now  this 
trouble  with  his  eyes  prevented  him  from 
working.  So  he  lived,  a  dependant  on  his 
wife,  his  son,  and  his  daughter-in-law,  ill- 
treated,  tormented,  looked  upon  as  an  in- 
truder by  every  one.  •  His  vice  was  drink, 
the  habit  of  drunkenness,  a  thirst,  a  ter- 
rible thirst.  No  one  at  home  gave  him  a 
cent  for  drink;  but  undoubtedly  in  order 
to  earn  a  little  money,  he  must  have 
secretly  carried  on  from  day  to  day,  in  no 
one  knows  what  street,  in  no  one  knows 
what  shop,  for  no  one  knows  what  people, 
some  ignoble  occupation.  When  the 
occasion  offered  he  seized  upon  whatever 
he  could  lay  hold  of  in  the  house,  and  ran 
and  sold  it  for  drink,  to  procure  the  means 
of  satisfying  his  unconquerable  passion ; 
the  fear  of  wrath  or  of  blows  was  power- 
less to  restrain  him.  At  least  once  a 
week  his  wife  drove  him  out  of  the  house. 
44 


Episcopo   and   Company 

Then  for  two  or  three  days  he  would  not 
have  the  courage  to  return,  or  even  to 
knock  at  the  door.  Where  did  he  go  ? 
Where  did  he  sleep  ?     How  did  he  live  ? 

From  the  first  day,  from  the  day  I 
made  his  acquaintance,  I  pleased  him. 
While  I  remained  seated  and  endured  the 
chatter  of  my  future  mother-in-law,  he 
came  in  and  turned  toward  me  with  a 
perpetual  smile  which  made  his  somewhat 
drooping  under-lip  tremble  slightly,  but 
which  did  not  extend  so  far  as  the  sort  of 
cage  in  which  his  poor  eyes  were  impris- 
oned.  When  I  rose  to  go,  he  said  to  me 
in  a  low  voice  and  with  manifest  fear,  "  I 
will  go  with  you."  We  went  out  together. 
He  was  awkward  on  his  legs.  As  we  went 
down  the  stairs  I  saw  that  he  hesitated, 
that  he  trembled,  and  I  said  to  him,  "  Do 
you  wish  to  lean  on  me  ?  " 

He   accepted.     When  we   reached  the 

street,  he  did  not  take  his  arm  from  mine, 

in  spite  of  the  movement  I  made  to  free 

myself.     At  first  he  was  silent  j   but   he 

45 


Episcopo  and   Company 

turned  to  me  from  time  to  time,  and 
brought  his  face  so  near  mine  that  the 
rim  of  his  hat  touched  me.  He  continued 
to  smile,  and  as  if  to  break  the  silence, 
accompanied  his  smile  with  a  queer  gut- 
tural sound.  It  was  at  dusk  on  a  very 
mild  night.  The  streets  were  full  of 
people.  Two  musicians,  with  flute  and 
guitar,  were  playing  on  the  terrace  of  the 
caf(6  an  air  from  ''  Norma."  I  remember 
a  carriage  passed  carrying  a  wounded  man 
escorted  by  two  policemen. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  he  said  at  last,  press- 
ing my  arm.  "  Truly,  I  am  satisfied. 
What  a  good  son  you  will  be  !  I  am  al- 
ready in  sympathy  with  you,  you  know." 

He  said  this  almost  convulsively,  ab- 
sorbed by  one  thought,  one  single  desire, 
which  he  was  ashamed  to  express.  Then 
he  began  to  laugh  like  an  imbecile.  The 
silence  began  again.  Then  he  said  once 
more,  "  I  am  satisfied." 

And  he  began  to  laugh  again,  but  this 
time  spasmodically.      I  saw  that  a  nervous 

46 


Episcopo  and   Company 

attack  was  affecting  him,  making  him 
suffer.  As  we  came  to  some  windows 
hung  with  red  curtains,  through  which 
blazed  the  light  within,  he  suddenly  said, 
"  Shall  we  have  a  glass  together  ?  " 

He  stopped,  held  me  near  the  door  so 
that  we  stood  in  the  patch  of  red  reflected 
on  the  pavement.  I  felt  that  he  was 
trembling,  and  the  light  enabled  me  to  see 
his  poor  inflamed  eyes  through  their  glasses. 
"  Let  us  go  in,"  I  said. 

We  entered  the  cabaret.  The  few 
drinkers  who  were  there  were  playing 
cards  in  groups.  We  took  our  places  in 
a  corner.     "  A  pint,  red,"  Canale  ordered. 

He  poured  the  wine  into  his  glass  with 
a  hand  which  trembled  like  a  paralytic's. 
He  drank  it  at  one  draught,  and  as  he 
passed  his  hands  over  his  lips,  he  poured 
a  second  glass.  Then  placing  the  bottle 
on  the  table,  he  began  to  laugh  and  said 
naively,  "  It  is  three  days  since  I  have  had 
a  drink." 

"  Three  days  ?  " 

47 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  Yes,  three  days.  I  have  not  a  cent. 
At  the  house  no  one  gives  me  anything. 
You  understand  ?  (And  I  can  no  longer 
work,  with  my  eyes.\    Look,  my  son." 

He  lifted  his  glasses,  and  it  was  as 
though  he  had  lifted  a  mask,  so  changed 
was  the  expression  of  his  face.  The  lids 
were  ulcerated,  pufFy,  without  eyelashes, 
maturated,  horrible;  he  could  scarcely 
open  his  two  tearful  eyes,  so  infinitely  sad, 
with  the  profound  and  incomprehensible 
sadness  of  animals  who  suffer.  This  rev- 
elation moved  me  to  repugnance  mingled 
with  pity. 

"  Do  they  pain  you  much,  very  much  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  son,  imagine  it !  Needles, 
needles,  splinters,  bits  of  glass,  spiteful 
thorns,  —  if  my  eyes  were  pierced  with  all 
these  it  would  be  nothing  in  comparison." 

Perhaps  he  exaggerated  his  suffering  be- 
cause after  such  a  long  time,  he  saw  him- 
self the  object  of  my  pity,  of  the  pity  of  a 
fellow-being !  For  so  long  he  had  not 
heard  a  sympathetic  voice. 

48 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  It  hurts  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  like  that." 

Softly,  softly,  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  a 
sort  of  rag  which  had  neither  form  nor 
color.  Then  he  lowered  his  spectacles 
and  emptied  his  second  glass.  I  drank 
also.  He  touched  the  bottle  and  said, 
"  My  son,  there  is  nothing  else  in  the 
world  but  that." 

I  observed  him.  Truly  nothing  about 
him  recalled  Ginevra ;  not  a  line,  not  an 
expression,  not  a  gesture,  nothing.  "  He 
is  not  her  father,"  I  thought. 

He  drank  again,  he  ordered  another 
pint ;  then  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  that  you 
are  going  to  marry  Ginevra.  And  you 
may  be  glad  too.  The  Canales  are  an 
honest  family !  If  we  had  not  been 
honest  —  by  this  time  —  "  Then  raising 
his  glass  he  smiled  an  ambiguous  smile 
which  troubled  me,  and  went  on,  "  Gi- 
nevra —  Ginevra  might  have  made  our 
fortune  if  we  had  wished.  Do  you 
understand  ?  These  are  things  I  may 
4  49 


Episcopo   and   Company 

say  to  you.  Not  one  or  two,  but  ten, 
twenty  propositions,  my  son  !  "  I  felt 
myself  turning  green. 

"  Prince  Altini,  for  example  —  he  has 
been  persecuting  me  for  an  eternity. 
Tired  of  the  struggle,  he  sent  for  me  to 
come  to  his  palace  one  night,  before  Gi- 
nevra  went  to  Tivoli.  Do  you  understand  ? 
He  would  give  three  thousand  francs 
down ;  he  would  open  a  shop  for  her,  and 
so  forth  and  so  forth  —  But  no,  no, 
Emilia  always  said  :  '  It  is  not  what  we 
want ;  it  is  not  what  we  want.  We  mar- 
ried the  elder ;  we  will  also  marry  the 
younger.  A  clerk  with  a  promising 
future,  with  a  regular  salary  -,  we  shall 
find  such  a  one.'  And  you  see  !  You 
came  along.  Your  name  is  Episcopo,  is 
it  not  ?  What  a  name  !  Madame  Epis- 
copo, then,  Madame  Episcopo." 

He  was  becoming  loquacious.  He  be- 
gan to  laugh.  "  Where  did  you  meet 
her  ?  At  the  boarding-place,  was  it  not  ? 
Tell  me  about  it ;  tell  me,  I  am  listening." 
50 


Episcopo  and   Company 

At  this  moment  a  man  with  a  repul- 
sive, equivocal  aspect  came  in  j  he  was 
a  cross  between  a  valet  and  a  hair- 
dresser, with  a  pale  face  covered  with 
red  pimples. 

"  Good-day,  Battista,"  he  said,  greeting 
Canale,  Battista  spoke  his  name  and 
offered  him  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Drink  to  our  health,  Teodoro.  I 
present  to  you  my  future  son-in-law, 
Ginevra's   fianc6." 

The  stranger,  surprised,  looked  at  me 
with  two  pale  eyes  which  made  me  shiver 
as  though  I  had  felt  a  cold  and  clammy 
touch  upon  my  skin.  "  Then,  sir,"  he 
murmured,  "  you  are  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  prattler,  inter- 
rupting him  ;  "  it  is  Signor  Episcopo." 

"  Ah,  Signor  Episcopo  —  delighted  — 
my  congratulations  —  " 

I  did  not  open  my  mouth.  But  Bat- 
tista, his  chin  on  his  breast,  laughed  with 
an  air  of  cunning.  The  other  soon  took 
his  leave. 

SI 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  Good-bye,  Battista.  I  hope  to  see 
you    again,   Signor    Episcopo." 

He  offered  me  his  hand,  and  I  gave 
him  my  hand. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  Battista 
said  to  me  in  a  low  tone,  "  Do  you 
know  who  that  is  ?  Teodoro.  He  is 
the  confidential  man  of  the  Marquis 
Aguti,  the  old  one,  the  owner  of  the 
palace  near  by.  For  a  year  he  has 
hung  around  me  on  Ginevra's  account. 
Do  you  understand  ?  The  old  man  wants 
her,  wants  her,  wants  her ;  he  weeps, 
he  cries,  he  stamps  his  feet  like  a  baby, 
he  wants  her  so  much.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
poor  Teodoro,  how  he  looked  !  Did  you 
see  his  face?  He  was  not  expecting  this 
affair ;  poor  Teodoro,  he  was  hardly  ex- 
pecting it  !  " 

He  continued  to  laugh  stupidly  whilst  I 
was  dying  with  anguish.  Suddenly  he 
stopped  and  swore.  From  beneath  the 
framework  of  his  glasses  two  streams  of 
tears  flowed  down  his  cheeks. 
52 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  Oh,  my  eyes  !  Whenever  I  drink, 
what  agony  !  " 

And  again  he  raised  his  terrible  green 
glasses ;  and  again  I  had  a  full  view  of  his 
deformed  face,  which  looked  as  though  the  ^^ 

skin  was  gone,  —  red  as  the  hind  parts  of  |  ^ 
certain  monkeys,  you  know,  in  the  me- 
nageries. Again  I  saw  those  two  mourn- 
ful eyes  in  the  midst  of  the  two  sores. 
Again  I  saw  the  gesture  with  which  he 
pressed  that  rag  to  his  lips. 

"  I  must  go,"  I  said ;  "  I  have  barely 
time." 

"  Well,  we  will  go,  but  wait  a  little." 

He  began  to  fumble  in  his  pockets  as  if 
in  search  of  money.  I  paid.  We  rose ; 
we  went  out.  Again  he  put  his  arm  in 
mine.  It  looked  as  though  he  did  not 
intend  to  leave  me  that  night.  He  laughed 
incessantly  like  an  imbecile.  And  I  felt 
in  him  a  return  of  the  former  attack.  He 
showed  the  agitation  of  a  man  who  wants 
to  say  something,  and  who  dares  not,  who 
is  ashamed.  Suddenly  with  an  effort  like 
53 


Episcopo   and   Company 

that  of  a  stammerer  stopping  himself,  he 
said,  dropping  his  head  and  hiding  his  face 
with  the  brim  of  his  hat,  "  Lend  me  five 
lire ;    I  will  repay  you." 

We  stopped.  I  put  the  five  lire  in  his 
trembling  hand.  At  once  he  turned,  fled, 
was  lost  in  the  shadow  ! 

Ah,  sir,  what  a  pity  !  A  man  who  is 
mastered  by  vice,  a  man  who  struggles  in 
its  clutches,  who  feels  himself  swept  along, 
sees  himself  lost,  yet  who  will  not,  can- 
not save  himself.  What  a  pity,  sir,  what 
a  pity  !  Do  you  know  of  anything  more 
incomprehensible,  more  fascinating,  more 
obscure  ?  Tell  me,  tell  me,  amongst  all 
human  things,  is  there  one  that  is  sadder 
than  the  terror  that  comes  over  a  man  in 
the  presence  of  the  temptation  of  his  des- 
perate passion  ?  Is  there  anything  sadder 
than  the  trembling  hands,  the  shaking 
knees,  the  drawn  lips  of  a  person  tortured 
by  the  implacable  desire  for  one  particular 
sensation  ?  Tell  me,  is  there  anything 
sadder  on  earth  ?  Anything  ? 
54 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Well,  sir,  from  that  night  I  felt  myself 
bound  to  this  wretch,  I  became  his  friend. 
Why  ?  By  what  mysterious  affinity  ?  By 
what  instinctive  foreknowledge  ?  Perhaps 
by  the  attraction  of  his  misfortunes,  inevi- 
table and  hopeless,  like  my  own.  After 
that  I  saw  him  every  night.  He  hunted 
me  up,  no  matter  where  I  was ;  he  waited 
for  me  at  the  door  of  my  office ;  he  waited 
for  me  in  my  own  hallway.  He  asked 
nothing  of  me ;  he  had  not  even  the  last 
resource  of  speaking  with  his  eyes,  since 
they  were  covered.  But  I  had  only  to  look 
at  him  to  understand  him.  He^smiled  with 
his  habitual  smile,  and  waited,  asking  noth- 
ing. I  had  not  the  strength  to  resist,  to 
send  him  off,  to  turn  a  cold  shoulder  to 
him,  to  speak  a  harsh  word.  Was  I  the 
slave  of  a  new  tyrant  ?  Did  Giulio  Wan- 
zer  have  a  successor  ?  His  presence  was 
often  painful  to  me,  horribly  painful ;  but  I 
did  nothing  to  rid  myself  of  it.  He  some- 
times had  effusions  of  ridiculous  and  dis- 
tressing tenderness  which  wrung  my  heart. 
55 


Episcopo   and   Company 

^'  Why  don't  you  call  me  '  papa  '  ?  "  he 
said  to  me  one  day,  making  the  sort  of 
face  a  baby  makes  when  on  the  point  of 
crying. 

I  knew  that  he  was  not  Ginevra's 
father;  I  knew  that  his  wife's  children 
were  not  his  children.  He  himself  was 
probably  not  ignorant  of  the  fact.  But  I 
called  him  "papa"  when  no  one  could 
hear  us,  when  we  were  alone,  when  he 
seemed  to  need  consolation.  He  would 
often  show  me  a  wound,  the  mark  of  a 
blow,  in  order  to  move  me,  with  the 
gesture  that  beggars  use  when  they  try 
to  get  alms  by  showing  off  their  deformities. 

I  discovered  by  chance  that  at  night  he 
sometimes  stationed  himself  in  some  ob- 
scure spot  in  the  street,  and  begged  in  low 
tones,  walking  along  for  a  short  distance 
with  some  passer-by ;  I  was  accosted  one 
night  near  Trajan's  Forum  by  a  man  who 
mumbled,  "  I  am  a  workman  out  of  em- 
ployment. I  am  almost  blind.  I  have 
five  children  who  have  had  nothing  to  eat 

56 


Episcopo   and   Company 

for  forty-eight  hours.  Give  me  something 
to  buy  them  bread  with,  —  bread  for  God's 
poor  creatures." 

I  recognized  his  voice  at  once.  But  he, 
who  was  really  almost  blind,  did  not  know 
me  in  the  shadow  -,  and  I  hurried  on  for 
fear  of  being  recognized. 

He  did  not  shrink  from  any  baseness  so 
long  as  it  would  bring  him  something  with 
which  to  satisfy  his  awful  thirst.  One 
night  when  he  was  in  my  room  he  could 
not  sit  still.  I  was  washing  my  hands.  I 
had  put  my  coat  and  waistcoat  on  a  chair, 
and  had  left  my  watch  —  a  little  silver  watch 
that  had  belonged  to  my  father,  my  dead 
father  —  in  my  waistcoat  pocket,  while  I 
stood  behind  a  screen.  I  heard  Battista 
moving  about  the  room  in  an  unwonted 
manner,  as  though  he  were  restless. 

''  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  I  asked. 

''  Nothing.  Why  ?  "  he  replied,  in  a 
changed  voice  and  with  undue  haste; 
then  he  quickly  joined  me  behind  the 
screen. 

57 


Episcopo  and   Company 

I  put  on  my  clothes,  and  we  went  out. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  I  started  to  take 
out  my  watch  to  see  what  time  it  was.  It 
was  not  there. 

''  Hello !  I  have  left  my  watch  up- 
stairs in  my  room.  I  must  go  back. 
Wait  here  for  me.  I  will  be  down  in  a 
minute." 

I  ran  up ;  I  lighted  a  candle  ;  I  looked 
everywhere  without  success.  After  some 
moments  I  heard  Battista's  voice  saying, 
''  Well,  have  you  found  it  ?  " 

He  had  followed  me  up  and  stopped 
at  the  door.     He  was  trembling  slightly. 

"  No ;  it  is  strange.  It  seems  to  me, 
though,  I  left  it  in  my  pocket.  You  did 
not  see  it  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Really  ? " 

"  No." 

I  already  had  a  suspicion.     Battista  con- 
tinued to  stand  in  the  doorway,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.     Impatiently,  almost  angrily, 
I  began  to  look  once  more. 
58 


Episcopo  and  Company 

"  I  could  not  have  lost  it.  I  had  it 
just  before  I  took  my  clothes  ofF;  I  am 
certain  that  I  had  it.  It  must  be  here  ;  I 
must  surely  find  it." 

Battista  had  come  nearer.  Turning 
suddenly  around,  I  read  guilt  in  his  face. 
My  heart  sank. 

''  It  must  be  here.  You  will  surely  find 
it,"  he  murmured  shamefacedly.  He  took 
the  candle,  leaned  over  to  search  about  the 
bed,  knelt  stumblingly,  raised  the  coverings, 
looked  under  the  bed.  He  gasped,  he 
panted ;  and  the  candle-grease  kept  drip^ 
ping  on  his  uncertain  hand.  This  comedy 
exasperated  me. 

"  Enough  !  "  I  cried  harshly.  "  Get 
up.  Do  not  take  so  much  trouble.  I 
know  where  to  look  — " 

He  put  the  candle  on  the  floor,  remained 
on  his  knees  for  a  moment,  timid,  bent, 
like  one  who  is  about  to  make  a  confession. 
But  he  confessed  nothing.  He  got  up 
painfully  without  a  word.  For  the  second 
time  I  read  guilt  in  his  face,  for  an  instant 
59 


Episcopo  and   Company 

was  angry.  "He  surely  has  my  watch  in 
his  pocket ;  I  must  force  him  to  confess  it, 
to  give  back  the  stolen  property,  to  repent. 
I  must  see  that  he  weeps  tears  of  repent- 
ance."    But  I  had  not  the  courage. 

"  Let  us  go,"  I  said. 

We  went  out.  The  guilty  man  walked 
slowly,  slowly,  behind  me  down  the  stairs, 
his  hand  on  the  railing.  How  pitiful,  how 
sorrowful !  When  we  reached  the  street 
he  asked  in  a  voice  which  was  a  mere 
breath,  "  You  think,  then,  that  it  was  I 
who  took  it  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  do  not  speak  of  it.  Good- 
bye ;  I  will  leave  you.  I  have  an  engage- 
ment to-night." 

I  turned  my  back  upon  him  without  a 
look.      How  sad  it  was  ! 

For  the  next  few  days  I  did  not  see  him. 
But  on  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day  he  ap- 
peared at  my  room. 

"  Is  that  you  ?  "  I  said  soberly. 

And  I  went  on  with  my  writing  without 
another  word. 

60 


Episcopo   and   Company 

"  Have  you  found  it  ?  "  he  ventured  to 
ask  after  a  considerable  silence. 

I  forced  a  laugh  and  went  on  writing. 
After  a  long  pause  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  did  not  take  it,"  he  said. 

^^  Yes,  yes  -,  I  know.  Does  it  still 
worry  you  ?  " 

When  he  saw  that  I  remained  seated  at 
my  table  he  said,  "  Good-night,  good-night, 
good-night." 

I  let  him  go  without  an  effort  to  keep 
him.  Afterward  I  was  sorry.  I  wished 
to  recall  him,  but  too  late.  He  had  gone 
too  far.  For  several  days  he  kept  out  of 
sight.  Then  as  I  was  returning  home 
quite  late,  a  little  before  midnight,  I  met 
him  under  a  gaslight.     It  was  drizzling. 

"  What,  you  at  this  hour  ?  " 

He  could  hardly  stand.  I  thought  him 
drunk.  But  looking  closer  I  saw  that  he 
was  in  a  pitiable  condition,  covered  with 
mud  as  if  he  had  rolled  in  the  street.  He 
looked  thin,  broken,  and  his  face  was  al- 
most purple. 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  Tell 
me. 

He  burst  into  tears,  came  closer,  fell 
into  my  arms ;  then  he  tried  to  tell  me  the 
thing,  stifled  by  his  sobs,  by  the  tears  which 
flowed  down  his  face. 

Ah,  sir,  in  that  light,  in  that  rain,  it  was 
terrible !  How  terrible  the  sobs>  of  this 
man  who  had  eaten  nothing  for  three  days  ! 

Do  you  know  hunger  ?  Have  you  ever 
seen  a  man  half  dead  from  lack  of  food, 
carrying  to  his  mouth  a  morsel  of  bread  or 
of  meat,  and  eating  the  first  mouthful  with 
poor  weak  teeth  that  are  loose  in  his  gums  ? 
Have  you  ever  looked  upon  this  sight  ? 
And  was  your  heart  not  torn  with  sadness 
and  tenderness  ? 

True,  I  had  not  intended  to  talk  so  long 
of  this  poor  devil.  I  have  been  carried 
along  to  the  neglect  of  the  rest,  I  know 
not  why.  But,  in  truth,  this  poor  devil 
has  been  my  only  friend  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  existence.  I  have  seen  him 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

weep,  and  he  has  seen  me  weep  more  than 
once.  In  his  vice  I  have  watched  the  re- 
flection of  my  own.  Besides,  we  have  had 
the  same  sorrows,  we  have  suffered  the  same 
wrong,  we  have  borne  the  same  shame. 

No  \  he  was  not  Ginevra's  father.  It  was 
not  his  blood  that  flowed  in  the  veins  of 
this  creature  who  did  me  so  much  harm. 

How  often  I  have  thought  with  a  rest- 
less and  insatiable  curiosity,  of  the  real 
father,  the  unknown,  the  nameless  one ! 
Who  could  he  have  been  ?  Surely  not  a 
man  of  the  people.  Certain  physical  re- 
finements, certain  movements  of  native 
elegance,  certain  cruelties,  certain  too  com- 
plicated perfidies,  and  besides,  her  instinct 
for  luxury,  her  easy  scorn,  a  manner  all 
her  own,  of  wounding  and  stinging  you  in 
a  laughing  way,  —  all  these  things,  and 
others  too,  revealed  some  few  drops  of 
aristocratic  blood.  Who  then  was  her 
father  ?  Some  obscure  old  man  like  the 
Marquis  Aguti  ?     Perhaps  — 

How  often  I  have  thought  of  it !     At 
63 


Episcopo   and   Company 

times,  too,  my  imagination  has  pictured 
the  face  of  a  man,  not  in  a  vague  and 
changing,  but  in  a  decided  way,  —  a  man 
with  a  physiognomy  of  his  own,  with  an 
expression  of  his  own,  living  a  life  of 
extraordinary  intensity. 

Without  any  doubt  Ginevra  must  know, 
or  at  least  feel,  that  she  had  no  blood  con- 
nection with  her  mother's  husband.  The 
fact  is,  that  I  never  succeeded  in  surprising 
in  her  eyes,  as  they  looked  upon  this  poor 
unfortunate,  the  least  light  of  affection  or 
even  of  compassion. 

On  the  contrary,  it  was  indifference,  it 
was  repugnance,  scorn,  aversion,  it  was 
even  hatred  that  she  showed  as  she  looked 
at  him. 

Oh,  those  eyes  !  They  told  everything : 
they  told  many  things  in  a  moment,  too 
many  different  things ;  they  were  my  ruin. 
Sometimes  they  met  mine  by  chance,  and 
they  had  in  them  a  look  of  steel,  of  shining 
and  impenetrable  steel.  Then  on  a  sudden 
a  soft  veil  would  come  over  them ;  they 

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Episcopo   and   Company 

would  lose  their  hardness.  Picture  to  your- 
self, sir,  a  steel  blade  clouded  by  a  breath. 

But,  no,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  speak 
to  you  of  my  love.  No  one  will  ever 
know  how  I  loved  her,  no  one.  She  her- 
self never  knew,  does  not  know.  But  I 
know  that  she  never  loved  me  !  Not  for 
one  single  day,  not  for  one  single  hour, 
not  even  for  one  single  instant. 

I  knew  it  from  the  beginning ;  I  knew 
it  even  while  she  was  looking  at  me  with 
that  veiled  look  in  her  eyes.  I  had  no 
illusions.  My  lips  never  dared  frame  the 
tender  question,  —  the  question  which  all 
lovers  repeat,  —  "  Do  you  love  me  ?  " 
And  I  recall  that  when  I  was  at  her  side, 
when  I  felt  within  me  a  longing  for  her, 
more  than  once  I  have  thought,  "  Oh,  if 
I  could  only  kiss  her  face,  without  her 
knowing  that  I  had  kissed  her." 

No,  no ;  I  cannot  speak  to  you  of  my 
love.  I  will  tell  you  more  facts,  absurd 
little  facts,  little  miseries,  little  shames. 

The  marriage  was  arranged.  Ginevra 
5  65 


Episcopo  and   Company 

remained  for  several  weeks  longer  at  Tivoli, 
and  I  went  there  often  by  street-car.  I 
spent  half  a  day  there,  or  I  spent  only  an 
hour  or  two.  I  was  glad  to  have  her  far 
from  Rome.  My  constant  fear  was  that 
one  of  my  fellow-clerks  would  discover 
my  secret.  I  employed  no  end  of  precau- 
tions, of  subterfuges,  of  pretexts,  of  decep- 
tions, to  hide  what  I  had  done,  what  I 
was  doing,  what  I  was  about  to  do.  I 
deserted  my  usual  haunts,  I  replied  eva- 
sively to  all  questions ;  I  slipped  into  a  shop 
or  under  a  porte-cochhe^  or  into  a  cross- 
street,  as  soon  as  I  recognized  from  afar 
one  of  my  old  acquaintances.  But  one 
day  I  could  not  escape  Filippo  Doberti. 
He  caught  me,  stopped  me,  or  rather 
grabbed  me,  saying,  "  Hello !  It 's  a 
long  while  since  I  have  seen  you,  Epis- 
copo !  What  have  you  been  doing  ? 
Have  you  been  ill  ?  " 

I   did   not    succeed    in    conquering    my 
involuntary  agitation.     "  Yes  ;  I  have  been 
ill,"  I  said  without  reflecting. 
(id 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  That  is  evident ;  you  are  fairly  green. 
But  how  are  you  living  now  ?  Where  do 
you  eat  ?  Where  do  you  spend  your 
evenings  ? " 

I  answered  with  another  lie,  and  evaded 
his  glance. 

^'  We  were  talking  of  you  the  other 
evening,"  he  continued.  "  Efrati  said  he 
had  met  you  in  Alexandrina  Street,  arm 
in  arm  with  a  drunken  man." 

"  With  a  drunken  man  ?  "  I  said.  "  Ef- 
rati was  dreaming." 

Doberti  burst  out  laughing.  "  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  how  you  blush  !  Decidedly  you  are 
fond  of  good  company !  Apropos,  have 
you  any  news  of  Wanzer  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  know  nothing  of  him." 

"  What  !  You  have  not  heard  that  he 
is  at  Buenos  Ayres  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing." 

''  Poor  Episcopo  !  Good-bye.  I  'm 
going.  Take  care  of  yourself;  take  care 
of  yourself.  I  see  you  're  down,  extremely 
down." 

6i 


Episcopo  and   Company 

He  turned  into  another  street,  leaving 
me  in  a  state  of  agitation  which  I  could 
not  overcome.  All  his  words  on  that  far- 
away night  when  he  had  spoken  of  Gi- 
nevra's  mouth  came  back  to  my  memory  ; 
all,  exact,  vibrant.  And  besides  these, 
other  cruder,  more  brutal  words.  I  saw 
once  more  that  gas-lighted  room,  the  long 
table  around  which  were  seated  those  eat- 
ing men,  excited  by  wine,  blunted  by  a 
common  absorption  in  low  thoughts.  I 
heard  the  laughter,  the  tumult,  my  name 
on  Wanzer's  lips  and  echoed  by  the 
others;  and  then  the  abominable  words, 
"  Episcopo  and  Company's  house."  And  I 
thought  that  now  this  horrible  thing  might 
become  a  reality. 

A  reality,  a  reality!  Is  such  ignominy 
possible,  then  ?  Is  it  possible  that  a  man 
who,  at  least  in  appearance,  is  neither  an 
idiot  nor  a  fool,  will  allow  himself  to  be 
dragged  into  such  ignominy  ? 

Ginevra  came  back  to  Rome.     The  day 
of  the  wedding  was  fixed. 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

In  a  carriage  with  her  mother  we  made 
a  tour  of  Rome  in  search  of  a  small  apart- 
ment, to  buy  the  nuptial  bed,  to  buy 
various  indispensable  articles  of  furniture  5 
in  a  word,  to  make  all  the  usual  prepara- 
tions. I  had  drawn  from  the  bank  fifteen 
thousand  lire,  which  constituted  all  my 
inheritance. 

Well,  we  made  a  triumphal  tour  of 
Rome  in  a  carriage  :  I,  reduced  to  noth- 
ing on  the  bracket  seat,  and  the  two 
women  facing  me,  their  knees  against  my 
knees.  Whom  did  we  not  meet  ?  Every 
one  recognized  us.  Twenty  times,  in 
spite  of  my  downcast  glance,  I  saw  from 
the  corners  of  my  eyes  some  one  on  the 
sidewalk  who  was  trying  to  attract  our 
attention.  Ginevra  was  very  gay,  leaned 
out,  turned  around,  saying  each  time, 
"  There  is  Questori !  There  is  Michele  ! 
There  is  Palumbo  with  Doberti !  " 

This  carriage  was  my  pillory. 

The  news  spread.  It  was  a  source  of 
endless    amusement  for  my   fellow-clerks, 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

for  my  fellow-boarders,  for  all  my  acquaint- 
ances. I  read  in  their  looks  irony,  de- 
rision, malicious  hilarity,  and  occasionally 
also  a  kind  of  insulting  pity.  No  one 
spared  me  some  slur,  and  I  smiled  at  each 
offence,  with  the  same  sort  of  a  smile,  like 
an  impeccable  automaton.  Was  there  any- 
thing else  to  do  ?  Could  I  get  angry,  be- 
come threatening,  give  myself  up  to  violence, 
strike  them,  throw  an  ink-bottle,  brandish 
a  chair,  fight  a  duel  ?  Would  not  these 
things  have  been  ridiculous,  sir  ? 

One  day  at  the  office,  two  "  clever  "  fellows 
made  up  a  dialogue.  It  was  between  a 
judge  and  Giovanni  Episcopo.  To  the 
judge's  question,  "  Your  profession  ? " 
Giovanni  Episcopo  replied,  "A  man  to 
whom  no  one  shows  respect." 

Another  day  this  was  what  I  heard : 
"  He  has  no  blood  in  his  veins,  not  a  drop 
of  blood.  The  little  he  had,  Giulio  Wan- 
zer  drew  from  his  forehead.  You  can  see 
there 's  not  a  drop  left." 

It  was  the  truth ;  it  was  the  truth. 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

How  did  it  come  about  that  I  suddenly 
resolved  to  write  Ginevra  and  to  free  my- 
self from  my  promise  ?  Yes  ;  I  wrote  her 
to  break  ofF  the  marriage.  I  myself  wrote 
with  this  very  hand.  I  posted  the  letter 
myself. 

It  was  at  night ;  I  remember  I  passed 
and  repassed  the  office,  as  agitated  as  a 
man  who  is  on  the  point  of  committing 
suicide.  At  last  I  stopped,  I  placed  the 
letter  at  the  opening  of  the  box,  but  it 
seemed  to  me  that  my  fingers  could  not 
open  it.  How  long  did  I  stay  in  that 
position  ?  I  do  not  know.  A  policeman 
touching  my  shoulder  said,  "What  are 
you  doing  ?  "  I  took  away  my  fingers,  I 
let  the  letter  drop,  and  I  almost  fainted  in 
the  arms  of  the  policeman. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  stammered,  with  tears  in 
my  voice,  "  what  must  I  do  to  get  it  back 
again  ?  " 

Oh,  that  night  !  The  anguish  of  that 
night  !  And  the  next  morning,  the  visit 
to  the  new  apartment,  the  conjugal  apart- 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

ment  already  prepared  to  receive  the  bride 
and  groom,  and  now  suddenly  become 
useless,  a  dead  apartment !  Oh,  that  sun- 
shine, those  rays  of  sunshine  that  lay  like 
shining  blades  on  all  the  new  furniture, 
which  still  exhaled  an  odor  of  the  shop, 
intolerable  odor  ! 

In  the  afternoon,  towards  five  o'clock  I 
met  Battista  as  I  came  out  of  the  office,  and 
he  said,  "  They  want  you  at  the  house 
immediately."  We  walked  on  together. 
I  trembled  like  a  captured  criminal. 

"  What  can  they  want  of  me  ? "  I 
asked,  as  if  to  prepare  myself.  Battista 
did  not  know.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
When  we  reached  the  door,  he  left  me.  I 
went  up  stairs  very  slowly,  regretting  that 
I  had  come,  as  I  thought  of  the  agent's 
hands,  those  terrible  hands  that  gave  me  a 
wild  fear.  When  I  raised  my  eyes  and 
saw  the  door  open,  saw  her  in  the  door- 
way, ready  to  pounce  upon  me,  I  said 
hastily,  "  It  was  all  a  joke,  a  simple 
joke." 

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Episcopo  and  Company 

And  the  next  week  we  were  married. 
My  witnesses  were  Enrico  Efrati  and 
Filippo  Doberti.  Ginevra  and  her  mother 
wanted  me  to  invite  as  many  of  my  col- 
leagues as  possible  to  dinner,  in  order  to 
astonish  the  population  of  the  Via  Monta- 
nara  and  its  neighborhood.  No  one  of 
the  old  boarders  was  missing. 

I  have  a  confused,  vague,  interrupted 
recollection  of  the  ceremony,  of  the  wed- 
ding, of  the  crowd,  of  the  voices,  of  the 
uproar.  Once  it  seemed  to  me  that  some- 
thing like  the  ardent,  impure  murmurings 
of  that  other  table  passed  around  the  one 
where  we  were  seated.  Ginevra's  face 
was  on  fire,  and  her  eyes  had  an  extra- 
ordinary brilliancy.  Around  her  shone 
many  other  eyes  and  many  other  smiles. 

I  have  a  memory  of  a  heavy  sadness 
which  settled  upon  me,  obscured  my  con- 
sciousness. And  I  can  still  see  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  at  an  almost  incred- 
ible distance,  that  poor  Battista,  drinking, 
drinking,  drinking. 

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PART    II 

A  WEEK  at  least.  I  don't  say  a  year,  a 
month.  But  at  least  a  week,  at  least  the 
first  week.  But,  no,  nothing ;  nothing  but 
misery.  She  did  not  wait  a  single  day : 
immediately,  even  on  our  wedding  night, 
she  began  her  work  of  torment. 

If  I  should  live  a  century,  I  could  not 
forget  the  unexpected  burst  of  laughter 
which,  in  the  obscurity  of  our  chamber, 
froze  me  and  humbled  my  timidity  and 
my  stupidity.  In  the  dim  light  I  could 
not  see  her  face  ;  but  for  the  first  time  I 
felt  all  her  badness  in  that  cutting,  jeering, 
unchaste  laughter  that  I  had  never  heard 
before,  that  even  now  I  did  not  recognize. 
I  felt  that  a  venomous  creature  was  breath- 
ing at  my  side. 

Oh,  sir,  her  laughter  was  like  the  poison 
of  a  viper. 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

Nothing,  nothing,  had  the  power  to* 
soften  her :  neither  my  silent  submission 
nor  my  silent  adoration ;  neither  my  sor- 
row nor  my  tears ;  nothing.  I  tried  in 
every  way  to  touch  her  heart,  but  in  vain. 
Sometimes  she  listened  to  me,  seriously, 
with  grave  eyes,  as  though  she  were  on 
the  point  of  understanding  ;  then  suddenly , 
she  would  begin  to  laugh,  with  that  fear- 
ful laughter,  that  inhuman  laughter,  which 
made  her  teeth  gleam  rather  than  her  eyes. 
And  I  was  left  thunderstruck. 

No,  no;  it  is  impossible.  Permit  me 
not  to  speak  of  it,  sir;  permit  me  to  go 
on.  I  cannot  talk  of  her.  It  is  as  though 
you  were  to  force  me  to  eat  a  bitter  thing, 
a  thing  intolerably  and  mortally  bitter.  Do 
you  not  see  that  my  mouth  contorts  as  I 
speak  ? 

One  night,  about  two  months  after  our 
marriage,  she  had  in  my  presence  a  sort  of 
fainting  spell,  —  you  know  the  usual  thing, 
—  and  I,  trembling  with  hope,  having 
awaited  in  secret  this  revelation,  this  sign, 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

this  fulfilment  of  my  supreme  wish,  this 
immense  joy  in  my  distress  —  I  fell  on 
my  knees  as  though  in  the  presence  of  a 
miracle.  Was  it  true  ?  Was  it  true  ? 
Yes,  she  declared  that  it  was  ;  she  con- 
firmed it.    She  bore  within  her  a  second  life. 

You  cannot  understand.  Even  if  you 
were  a  father  you  could  not  understand 
the  extraordinary  emotion  which  filled  my 
soul.  Imagine,  sir,  imagine  a  man  who 
has  suffered  everything  under  heaven  that 
it  is  possible  to  suff'er  \  a  man  who  has  been 
beset  without  one  moment's  respite  by  the 
harsh  treatment  of  other  men  ;  a  man  who 
has  never  been  loved  by  any  one,  yet  who 
has,  in  the  depths  of  his  being,  treasures  of 
tenderness  and  of  goodness,  treasures  inex- 
haustible, to  spend  on  others, — imagine,  sir, 
the  hope  with  which  this  man  would  await 
a  creature  of  his  own  blood,  a  son,  a  sweet 
delicate  being  by  whom  he  could  make 
himself  beloved ! 

It  was  in  September,  I  remember,  one 
of  those    calm    golden    days    tinged    with 


Episcopo   and   Company 

melancholy  —  you  know  —  when  summer 
is  dying.  I  had  always  dreamed  of  him, 
of  Giro,  with  joy  inefFable. 

One  Sunday  we  met  Doberti  and  Ques- 
tori  on  the  Pincian  Hill.  Both  of  them 
made  a  great  ado  over  Ginevra,  and  joined 
us  in  our  walk.  Ginevra  and  Doberti 
went  ahead ;  Questori  and  I  remained 
behind.  It  seemed  to  me  that  with  each 
step  the  couple  ahead  of  us  trampled  upon 
my  heart.  They  talked  animatedly,  they 
laughed  together,  and  people  turned  around 
to  look  at  them.  Their  words  reached  me 
only  indistinctly,  mingled  with  the  sound 
of  music,  although  I  strained  my  ears  to 
catch  what  they  were  saying.  My  dis- 
tress was  so  apparent  that  Questori  called 
to  them,  saying,  "  Not  so  fast,  not  so 
fast !  Don't  go  so  far  ahead  I  Episcopo 
will  die  of  jealousy." 

They  joked,  they  ridiculed  me.  Doberti 
and  Ginevra  continued  to  walk  ahead,  to 
laugh  and  to  talk,  in  spite  of  the  noise  and 
the  music,  which  perhaps  excited  and  in- 

n 


Episcopo  and   Company 

toxicated  them,  whilst  I  was  so  unhappy 
that  as  we  passed  along  the  parapet,  I  had 
a  wild  thought  of  throwing  myself  sud- 
denly down,  in  order  instantly  to  put  an 
end  to  such  suffering.  There  was  one 
moment  when  Questori  himself  was  silent. 
I  saw  that  he  was  attentively  following 
Ginevra's  silhouette,  and  that  he  too  was 
troubled  by  a  desire  for  her.  Other  men 
who  met  us  turned  two  or  three  times  to 
look  at  her,  and  in  their  eyes  was  the  same 
light.  It  was  always,  always  the  same 
thing ;  when  she  passed  through  a  crowd, 
foulness  was  in  her  train.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  round  about  us  this  foulness 
sullied  the  whole  atmosphere ;  it  seemed  to 
me  that  every  one  coveted  this  woman, 
and  judged  her  easy  to  obtain ;  all  had  the 
same  low  thought  lodged  in  their  brains. 
Waves  of  music  surged  and  grew  louder ; 
all  the  leaves  of  the  trees  glistened;  the 
wagon-wheels  made  a  deafening  noise  in 
my  ears.  And  in  the  midst  of  this  tumult, 
of  this  crowd,  of  this  confused  spectacle, 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

at  the  sight  of  this  woman,  —  who  in  my 
presence  was  allowing  herself  little  by  little 
to  be  cajoled  by  this  man,  —  and  with  the 
feeling  that  impurity  enveloped  me  on  every 
side,  I  thought,  with  a  terrible  pang  of 
agony,  of  the  little  creature  who  was  be- 
ginning to  live,  of  the  little  unformed  being 
who  was  perhaps  at  this  moment  suffering 
from  the  emotions  of  this  body  in  which 
it  was  beginning  to  live. 

My  God,  my  God  !  How  this  thought 
made  me  suffer !  How  often  it  tortured 
me  before  he  was  born  !  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  The  thought  of  his  contamination 
—  do  you  understand  ?  The  fault  of  in- 
fidelity troubled  me  less  on  my  own  account 
than  for  the  son  who  was  not  yet  born. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  something  of  this 
shame,  of  this  vileness,  must  stick  to  him, 
soil  him.     Do  you  understand  my  horror  ? 

One  day  I  showed  unheard-of  courage. 
One  day  when  my  suspicions  tormented  me 
most  cruelly,  I  had  the  courage  to  speak. 

Ginevra  was  at  the  window.  I  recall 
79 


Episcopo  and   Company 

it ;  it  was  a  fete-day ;  the  bells  were  ring- 
ing; the  sun  shone  on  the  sill.  Truly  the 
sunshine  is  the  saddest  thing  there  is  in  the 
world.  Do  you  not  think  so  ?  The  sun- 
shine has  always  put  suffering  into  my 
heart.  In  all  my  saddest  memories  there 
is  a  little  sunshine,  a  yellow  ray,  as  you  see 
it  in  the  midst  of  funeral  trappings.  When 
I  was  a  child  they  left  me  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  a  room  where  lay  the  body  of  one 
of  my  sisters,  laid  out  on  a  bed  surrounded 
by  wreaths  of  flowers.  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  can  see  it  yet,  that  poor  face  with 
its  violet  shadows,  to  which,  later,  Giro's 
face  in  his  last  moments  bore  such  a 
resemblance. 

Ah,  where  was  I  ?  My  sister,  yes,  my 
sister  was  lying  on  the  bed  among  the 
flowers.  Yes,  that  is  what  I  was  saying. 
But  what  was  I  trying  to  get  at  ?  Let  me 
reflect  a  little.  This  is  it.  I  went  up  to 
the  window  with  a  dreadful  fear;  it  was 
a  little  window  opening  upon  a  court. 
The  house  opposite  seemed  to  be  empty  : 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

no  human  voice  was  heard  within  it ;  the 
quiet  was  absolute.  But  on  the  roof  mul- 
titudes of  sparrows  were  making  a  distress- 
ing, continuous,  endless  chirping  j  and  under 
the  projecting  roof,  upon  the  gray  wall,  in 
the  gray  shadow,  was  a  band  of  sunshine, 
a  yellow,  straight  blinding  ray  which  shone 
dismally  with  incredible  intensity.  I  dared 
not  turn  around,  I  looked  fixedly  at  the 
yellow  line,  as  though  under  a  spell ; 
and  behind  me  I  felt  —  can  you  under- 
stand ?  —  while  my  ears  were  filled  with 
the  great  chirping,  I  felt  behind  me  the 
frightful  silence  of  the  room,  —  that  icy 
silence  that  reigns  where  the  dead  lie  — 

Ah,  sir,  how  often  have  I  seen  again  in 
my  life  that  tragic  band  of  sunshine  !  How 
often  ! 

But  what  was  I  getting  at  ?  I  was  say- 
ing that  Ginevra  was  at  the  window ;  the 
sun  streamed  into  the  room  ;  on  a  chair 
lay  a  wreath  of  immortelles  tied  with  a 
black  ribbon.  Ginevra  and  her  mother 
were  going  to  take  it  to  Campo  Verano 
6  8i 


Episcopo  and   Company 

for  the  tomb  of  some  relatives.  What  a 
memory,  you  will  think !  Yes,  I  have  a 
terrible  memory  now. 

Listen.  She  was  eating  some  fruit, 
with  that  provoking  sensuousness  which 
she  put  into  all  her  acts.  She  was  paying 
no  attention  to  me ;  she  neither  perceived 
that  I  was  there,  nor  that  I  was  looking  at 
her.  Her  profound  indifference  had  never 
tortured  me  as  it  did  that  day ;  I  had  never 
understood  so  clearly  that  she  did  not  be- 
long to  me,  that  she  was  at  the  disposal  of 
1  the  first  comer,  that  inevitably  she  would 
I  give  herself  to  the  first  comer,  and  that  I 
1  never  should  be  able  to  establish  either 
the  right  of  love  or  the  right  of  force.  And 
I  looked  and  looked  at  her. 

Has  it  ever  happened  to  you,  after  look- 
ing fixedly  at  a  woman,  suddenly  to  lose  all 
sense  of  her  humanity,  of  her  social  state, 
of  the  ties  of  affection  which  bind  you  to 
her,  and  to  see,  with  a  plainness  which 
astounds  you,  the  beast,  the  female,  the 
brutality  of  sex  ? 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

That  is  what  I  saw  as  I  looked  at  her; 
and  I  understood  that  she  was  fit  only  for 
^arnal  acts,  for  some  ignoble  function. 
And  another  hideous  truth  was  presented 
to  my  spirit :  that  the  foundations  of  human 
existence,  the  foundations  of  all  human 
anxieties,  is  something  repulsive.  Hideous, 
hideous  truth ! 

Tell  me  what  could  I  do  about  it. 
Nothing.  But  this  woman  was  carrying 
another  life,  she  was  nourishing  with  her 
blood  this  mysterious  being,  —  the  incarna- 
tion of  my  constant  dreams,  my  supreme 
hope,  my  adoration  — 

Yes;  before  he  ever  saw  the  light  I 
adored  him,  I  wept  tears  of  tenderness 
for  him,  I  said  in  my  heart  unspeak- 
able words  to  him.  Think,  sir,  think  of 
this  martyrdom,  —  to  be  unable  to  sepa- 
rate an  innocent  being  from  an  ignoble 
one ;  to  know  that  the  object  of  your 
adoration  is  bound  to  a  person  of  whose 
infamies  you  stand  in  dread.  What  would 
be  the  feeling  of  a  fanatic  who  was  forced 
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Episcopo   and   Company 

to  see  the  sacrament  at  the  altar  covered 
with  a  filthy  rag  ?  What  would  be  his 
feeling  if  he  were  forbidden  to  kiss  the 
divine  substance  except  through  a  soiled 
veil  ? 

I  cannot  express  it.  Our  words,  our 
acts,  remain  always  vulgar,  stupid,  insigni- 
ficant, however  grand  the  feeling  which 
inspires  them.  That  day  there  were  with- 
in me  numberless  sad  feelings,  repressed, 
confused ;  but  the  result  of  it  all  was  only 
a  short  cynical  dialogue,  a  ridiculous  scene, 
an  act  of  cowardice.  Do  you  want  the 
facts,  the  dialogue  ?     Here  they  are. 

She  was,  as  I  have  said,  at  the  window, 
and  I  went  up  to  her.  For  a  moment  I 
was  silent.  Then  with  a  tremendous 
effort  I  took  her  hand  and  said,  "  Gi- 
nevra,  have  you  already  been  untrue  to 
me  ?  " 

"  Untrue  to  you  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

And  I  said,  "  Have  you  already  had  a 
lover  ?     Possibly  Doberti." 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

She  looked  at  me  again,  for  I  was  trem- 
bling all  over. 

''  What  sort  of  a  scene  are  you  making  ? 
What  has  got  into  you  now  ?  Are  you 
crazy  ? " 

"  Answer,  Ginevra  !  " 

I  tried  to  take  her  hand  again,  but  as 
she  shrank  away  she  cried, "  Don't  bother 
me.     I  've  had  enough  of  it !  " 

But  I  threw  myself  at  her  feet  like  a  ma- 
niac.    I  held  her  by  the  hem  of  her  gown. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  I  implore  you,  Ginevra  ! 
Have  pity,  have  a  little  pity !  Wait  at 
least  until  the  birth  —  of  this  poor  creature, 
of  my  poor  child  !  It  is  my  child,  is  it 
not  ?  Wait  till  he  is  born.  Afterward, 
you  shall  do  as  you  please,  I  will  hold  my 
tongue,  I  will  bear  everything.  When 
your  lovers  come,  I  will  go  away.  If  you 
command  it,  I  will  black  their  boots  in  the 
next  room  —  I  will  be  your  servant,  I  will 
be  their  servant;  I  will  bear  all.  But 
wait,  wait,  first  give  me  my  son !  Have 
pity !  " 

8S 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Nothing,  nothing.  Her  look  expressed 
only  a  cheerful  curiosity.  Drawing  away, 
she  repeated,  "  Are  you  crazy  ?  " 

Then  as  I  continued  my  supplication 
she  turned  her  back  on  me,  went  out, 
closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  left  me 
there  kneeling  on  the  floor.  On  the 
floor  lay  the  sunlight,  and  on  the  chair 
was  that  mortuary  wreath.  My  sobs  did 
not  change  the  fatality  of  things  — 

Can  we  ever  change  things  ?  Of  what 
avail  are  our  tears  ?  Every  man  is  merely 
a  certain  man,  to  whom  certain  things 
happen.  That  is  all,  —  nothing  more. 
Amen. 

We  are  both  tired,  my  dear  sir,  —  I  of 
talking,  you  of  listening.  In  fact  I  have 
wandered  a  little,  too  much  perhaps,  for 
you  know  well  the  question  is  of  other 
things.  The  point  lies  elsewhere.  I  must 
pass  over  ten  years  to  reach  the  point,  —  ten 
years,  ten  centuries  of  sorrows,  of  miseries, 
of  ignominies. 

And  yet  the  trouble  was  not  past  help. 
86 


Episcopo  and   Company 

The  night  I  heard  the  shrieks  of  this 
woman  in  confinement  —  shrieks  which 
had  nothing  human  about  them,  but  were 
the  shrieks  of  an  animal  in  the  slaughter- 
house —  I  thought  with  a  convulsion  of  my 
whole  being,  "  Oh,  if  she  would  only  die 
and  leave  me  my  living  son  !  "  Her  cries 
were  so  horrible  that  I  thought,  "  When 
one  cries  like  that  it  is  impossible  that  one 
should  not  die."  Yes,  I  had  that  thought, 
I  had  that  hope.  But  she  did  not  die  ;  she 
survived  for  my  damnation  and  for  my 
son's. 

My  son,  he  really  was  my  son,  the  son 
of  my  blood.  He  had  on  his  left  shoulder 
the  same  mark  that  I  have  had  from  birth. 
I  thank  God  for  that  mark  which  enabled 
me  to  know  my  son. 

And  now  shall  I  tell  you  of  the  martyr- 
dom of  these  ten  years  ?  Shall  I  tell  it 
all  ?  No ;  that  is  impossible.  I  should 
never  reach  the  end.  And  besides,  per- 
haps you  would  not  believe  me,  for  what 
we  suffered  is  incredible. 
87 


Episcopo   and   Company 

To  be  brief,  these  are  the  facts.  My 
house  became  an  evil  resort.  I  sometimes 
met  strange  men  at  my  door.  I  did  not 
come  to  do  what  I  had  said  :  I  did  not 
black  their  boots  in  the  next  room ;  but  I 
soon  became  only  an  inferior  sort  of  ser- 
vant in  my  own  house.  Battista  himself 
was  less  unfortunate  than  I,  less  abased.  No 
humiliation  could  ever  be  anything  com- 
pared to  mine.  Jesus  would  have  wept 
all  his  tears  over  me ;  for  of  all  men  I  am 
the  one  who  has  touched  the  depths,  the 
last  depths,  of  humiliation.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  Battista,  the  wretched  Battista,  had 
reason  to  pity  me. 

During  the  first  years,  as  long  as  Giro 
did  not  understand,  it  was  nothing.  But 
when  I  saw  that  his  intelligence  was  awak- 
ening ;  when  I  saw  that  in  this  frail  and 
delicate  being  a  mind  was  developing  with 
astonishing  rapidity  ;  when  I  heard  from  his 
lips  the  first  cruel  question,  —  oh,  then  I  saw 
that  I  was  lost.  What  could  I  do  ?  How 
could  I  conceal  the  truth  from  him  ?  What 
88 


Episcopo  and   Company 

resource  had  I  in  my  distress  ?  I  saw  that 
I  was  lost. 

His  mother  took  no  care  of  him :  she 
forgot  him  during  hours  together ;  she  let 
him  want  for  necessary  things ;  sometimes 
she  even  beat  him.  And  I  was  forced  to 
leave  him  for  long  hours ;  I  could  not  sur- 
round him  constantly  with  my  protecting 
tenderness.  I  could  not  make  life  as  sweet 
for  him  as  I  had  dreamed,  as  I  would  have 
wished.  The  poor  little  creature  spent 
nearly  all  his  time  in  the  kitchen  with  a 
servant. 

I  put  him  in  school.  In  the  morning 
I  took  him  there,  and  in  the  afternoon  at 
five  o'clock  I  went  after  him;  and  after 
that  I  did  not  leave  him  until  he  was 
asleep.  He  soon  learned  to  read,  to  write ; 
he  distanced  all  his  comrades ;  he  made 
astonishing  progress.  Intelligence  shone 
in  his  big  black  eyes  which  lighted  up  his 
face,  —  eyes  that  were  deep  and  melan- 
choly. When  he  looked  at  me,  I  some- 
times felt  a  kind  of  inward   disturbance, 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

and  I  could  not  bear  his  look  for  long. 
Oh,  often  at  night,  at  the  table,  when  his 
mother  was  there,  and  silence  lay  heavy 
upon  us,  all  my  mute  anguish  was  re- 
flected in  his  pure  eyes. 

But  the  truly  terrible  days  were  yet  to 
come.  My  shame  became  too  public,  the 
scandal  too  serious ;  Madame  Episcopo 
quite  lost  her  reputation.  For  my  own 
part,  I  neglected  my  office-work;  I  made 
frequent  errors ;  at  times  my  hand  trembled 
so  I  could  not  write.  My  colleagues  and 
my  superiors  looked  upon  me  as  a  degraded, 
dishonored,  depraved,  brutalized,  ignoble 
man.  Two  or  three  times  they  gave  me 
notice ;  then  they  took  away  part  of  my 
work,  and  finally  they  discharged  me  in  the 
name  of  outraged  morality. 

Up  to  that  time  I  had  at  least  been 
worth  the  amount  of  my  salary.  But 
from  that  day  I  was  not  worth  a  rag,  not 
even  a  paring  thrown  into  the  street. 
Nothing  can  give  you  an  idea  of  the  fury, 
of  the  animosity,  with  which  my  wife  and 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

my  mother-in-law  tortured  me.  And  yet 
they  had  taken  from  me  the  few  thousand 
lire  I  had  left ;  and  the  latter  had  opened 
at  my  expense  a  small  notion  shop,  and  on 
the  proceeds  of  this  her  family  lived. 

They  looked  upon  me  as  an  odious  con- 
sumer of  victuals,  and  placed  me  on  a  level 
with  Battista.  It  came  my  turn  to  find 
the  door  closed,  to  endure  hunger.  I  tried 
my  hand  at  every  trade,  at  the  lowest, 
most  degrading  forms  of  labor.  I  exerted 
myself  from  morning  until  night  to  earn  a 
few  pennies  :  I  did  copying,  I  ran  errands, 
I  was  a  prompter  in  an  opera  troupe,  I 
was  a  door-keeper  in  a  newspaper  office, 
I  was  a  clerk  in  a  matrimonial  bureau,  I 
did  everything  that  offered.  I  rubbed  up 
against  all  sorts  of  people;  I  took  all 
kinds  of  insults ;  I  bent  my  neck  under 
every  yoke. 

And  now,  tell  me,  after  endless  days  of 

labor  like  this,  did   I   not  deserve  a  little 

repose,   a    little  forgetfulness  ?     At  night, 

whenever  I  could,  as  soon    as    Ciro  had 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

closed  his  eyes,  I  went  out.  Battista 
waited  for  me  in  the  street,  and  we  went 
together  to  some  place  to  drink. 

Rest,  forgetfulness !  Who  has  ever 
understood  the  meaning  of  the  expression 
"  To  drown  one's  sorrows  in  wine  ?  "  Ah, 
sir,  if  I  have  always  drank,  it  is  because  I 
have  always  felt  burning  within  me  an 
inextinguishable  thirst ;  but  wine  has  never 
brought  me  one  second's  enjoyment.  We 
would  sit  down  opposite  one  another,  with 
no  desire  to  talk.  No  one  talked  there. 
Were  you  ever  in  one  of  those  silent 
places  ?  The  drinkers  keep  to  themselves ; 
they  look  weary ;  they  rest  their  heads  in 
the  palms  of  their  hands  ;  in  front  of  them 
is  a  glass,  but  perhaps  they  do  not  see  it. 
Is  it  wine  ?  Is  it  blood  ?  Yes,  sir,  it  is 
both  one  and  the  other. 

Battista  had  become  almost  blind.  One 
night  as  we  walked  along  together,  he 
stopped  under  a  gas-jet  and,  feeling  of  his 
abdomen,  said  to  me,  "  Do  you  see  how 
swollen  it  is?"  Then  taking  my  hand 
92 


Episcopo  and   Company 

and  making  me  feel  the  hardness  of  the 
swelling,  he  added  in  a  voice  altered  by 
fear,  "  What  can  it  be  ?  " 

For  several  weeks  he  had  been  in  this 
condition,  but  had  not  mentioned  it.  A 
few  days  later  I  took  him  to  a  hospital  to 
consult  a  physician.  It  was  a  tumor,  or 
rather  a  collection  of  tumors  that  were 
growing  rapidly.  An  operation  might  be 
performed,  but  Battista  would  not  consent, 
although  he  was  not  at  all  resigned  to  die. 

He  dragged  about  for  another  month 
or  two ;  then  he  had  to  go  to  bed  and  did 
not  get  up  again. 

What  a  slow,  dreadful  death !  The 
pawnbroker's  agent  had  relegated  the  poor 
unfortunate  to  a  sort  of  lumber-room  in  an 
obscure  and  stuffy  out-of-the-way  corner^ 
that  she  might  not  hear  his  groans.  I 
went  every  day  to  see  him,  and  Giro 
wanted  to  go  with  me,  to  help  me  —  ah, 
if  you  had  seen  the  poor  child !  How 
courageous  he  was  in  this  work  of  charity 
done  by  his  father's  side ! 
93 


Episcopo  and   Company 

In  order  to  see  better,  I  used  to  light  a 
candle-end,  and  Giro  held  it  for  me.  By 
this  we  would  find  our  way  to  this  great 
deformed,  complaining  object,  who  did  not 
want  to  die.  No,  he  was  not  merely  a 
man  stricken  by  disease;  he  was  rather 
—  how  shall  I  put  it  ?  —  he  was  rather 
disease  personified,  an  inhuman  thing,  a 
monstrous  creature  alive  with  its  own  life, 
but  to  which  were  attached  two  poor  hu- 
man arms,  two  poor  human  legs,  and  a 
little  red  bald  repulsive  head.  What  a 
horror !  And  Giro  held  the  light  while  I 
injected  morphine  under  the  skin,  so  drawn 
that  it  shone  like  yellow  marble. 

But  enough,  enough !  Peace  be  to  that 
poor  soul  !  I  must  come  to  the  point  and 
not  digress  any  more. 

Fatality  !  Ten  years  passed,  —  ten  years 
of  hopeless  life,  ten  centuries  of  hell. 
Then  one  night  at  the  table  in  Giro's  pres- 
ence, Ginevra  said  suddenly,  "  Did  you 
know  Wanzer  was  back  ?  " 

I  did  not  turn  pale ;  that  is  sure.  For 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

you  see  my  face  had  long  since  taken  on 
an  unvarying  color,  which  death  itself 
would  not  alter,  and  which,  just  as  it  is,  I 
shall  carry  with  me  under  the  ground. 
But  I  remember  that  my  tongue  refused  to 
pronounce  a  word. 

She  transfixed  me  with  that  sharp, 
cutting  look  which  always  inspired  me 
with  the  apprehension  which  the  sight  of 
a  loaded  weapon  gives  a  coward.  I  no- 
ticed that  she  was  looking  at  my  forehead, 
at  my  scar,  and  she  smiled  an  exasperating 
smile.  Pointing  to  the  gash,  she  said  with 
evil  intent,  "  You  have  not  forgotten 
Wanzer  in  spite  of  the  pleasant  reminder 
he  has  left  you  ?  " 

Then  Giro's  eyes  became  fixed  on  my 
scar  and  I  read  in  them  the  questions  he 
desired  to  ask.  He  wanted  to  say,  ''  What, 
did  you  not  tell  me  that  you  were  hurt 
in  a  fall  ?  Why  this  deception  ?  And 
who  is  this  man  who  has  marked  you  ?  " 

But  he  dropped  his  eyes  and  said  noth^ 
ing.     "  I  met  him  this  morning,"  Ginevra 
95 


Episcopo  and   Company 

continued.  "  He  recognized  me  at  once. 
But  I  did  not  know  him  at  first  because 
he  has  let  his  beard  grow.  He  knew  noth- 
ing about  us.  He  told  me  he  had  been 
looking  for  you  for  two  or  three  days.  He 
wants  to  see  his  dear  friend  again.  No 
doubt  he  has  made  his  fortune  in  America, 
if  one  may  judge  from  his  looks  —  " 

As  she  spoke,  she  continued  to  keep  her 
eyes  on  me,  always  with  that  inexplicable 
smile.  From  time  to  time  Giro  looked  at 
me ;  and  I  felt  that  he  felt  me  suffer. 

After  a  pause  Ginevra  added,  ''  He  is 
coming  to-night,  very  soon." 

Outside  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents. 
This  continuous,  monotonous  sound  gave 
me  the  feeling  of  having  swallowed  a 
strong  dose  of  quinine.  I  lost  all  sense  of 
reality;  I  became  wrapped  in  that  atmos- 
phere of  isolation  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken.  I  had  anew  a  profound  sense  of 
the  priority  of  the  actual  and  of  the  future 
event.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  assisting  at  the 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

repetition  of  a  series  of  events  which  had 
already  occurred.  Was  this  something  new 
that  Ginevra  had  told  me  ?  Was  the  anxi- 
ety of  this  waiting  something  new  ?  Was 
this  new^  this  uncomfortable  feeling  given 
me  by  my  son's  eyes,  which  with  a  move- 
ment that  was  no  doubt  involuntary,  turned 
too  often  to  my  forehead,  to  my  accursed 
scar  ?  No,  not  one  of  all  these  things  was  new. 
We  were  silent,  all  three  of  us,  around  the 
table.  Giro's  face  expressed  unwonted  dis- 
tress. There  was  something  unusual  about 
the  silence  itself,  an  obscure  significance 
which  my  soul  could  not  penetrate. 

Suddenly  the  bell  rang.  My  look  met 
my  son's.  Ginevra  said,  "  It  is  Wanzer  ; 
open  the  door." 

I  opened  it.  My  members  accom- 
plished the  act,  but  the  will  to  do  it  was 
not  mine.     Wanzer  entered. 

Need  I  describe  to  you  the  scene,  re- 
peat his  words  ?  In  what  he  said  and  in 
what  he  did,  in  what  we  said  and  in  what 
we  did,  there  was  nothing  extraordinary* 
7  97 


Episcopo   and   Company 

Two  old  friends  meet,  embrace,  exchange 
the  usual  questions,  the  usual  replies. 
Apparently  that  was  all. 

He  wore  a  great  impervious  cloak  with 
a  hood  that  was  shiny  and  soaked  with 
rain.  He  seemed  taller,  larger,  more 
imperious  than  formerly.  He  had  three 
or  four  rings  on  his  fingers,  a  pin  in  his 
necktie,  and  a  gold  chain.  He  talked  with- 
out embarrassment,  like  a  man  sure  of 
himself.  Was  he  really  a  thief  returned 
to  his  country  because  he  was  now  safe 
from  prosecution  ? 

"  You  have  grown  much  older,"  he 
said  to  me  among  other  things,  after  hav- 
ing examined  me  closely.  "  Madame  Gi- 
nevra,  on  the  contrary,  is  fresher  than 
ever."  And  he  examined  Ginevra  with 
half-closed  eyes  and  a  sensual  smile.  Al- 
ready he  desired  her,  and  he  was  sure  of 
possessing  her. 

"  Speak  frankly,"  he  said.  "  Was  it 
not  I  who  arranged  your  marriage  ?  Posi- 
tively it  was.     Don't  you  remember  ?  " 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

He  began  to  laugh  ;  Ginevra  also ;  and  I 
too,  I  tried  to  laugh.  Apparently  I  was 
quite  used  to  Battista's  r6le.  Poor  Battista, 
(may  God  keep  his  soul ! )  had  left  me  as 
his  legacy  this  stupid,  convulsive  way  of 
laughing. 

Giro  continued  to  look  at  his  mother,  at 
the  stranger,  and  at  me.  And  when  his 
look  rested  on  Wanzer,  there  was  a  hard- 
ness in  it  that  I  had  never  before  seen  there. 

"  This  child  resembles  you  very  much,'* 
Wanzer  said.  "  He  resembles  you  more 
than  his  mother." 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  stroke  his  hair. 
But  Giro  bounded  away,  evading  this  hand 
with  a  movement  so  violent,  so  fierce,  that 
Wanzer  was  astounded. 

"  Giro,"  cried  his  mother,  "  what  man- 
ners ! "  and  she  boxed  his  ears  soundly. 
"  Take  him  away,  quick ;  take  him  away," 
she  ordered,  pale  with  anger. 

I    arose;   I    obeyed.     Giro  dropped  his 
chin  on  his  breast,  but  he  did  not  cry.     I 
could  barely  hear  that  he  ground  his  teeth, 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

When  we  were  in  our  room,  I  raised 
his  head  in  the  most  caressing  way  possible, 
and  I  saw  on  his  poor  thin  cheeks  the  im- 
print of  her  fingers,  a  red  mark  from  the 
blow.     My  tears  blinded  me. 

"  Did  it  hurt  you,  tell  me,  did  it  hurt 
you  very  much  ?  Ciro,  Giro,  answer  me  ! 
Did  it  hurt  you  terribly  ?  "  I  asked,  leaning 
with  despairing  tenderness  over  his  poor 
injured  cheek,  which  I  should  have  liked  to 
bathe,  not  In  my  tears,  but  with  I  know 
not  what  precious  balm. 

He  did  not  answer;  he  did  not  cry. 
Never,  never,  had  I  seen  him  with  that 
hard,  hostile,  almost  savage  look ;  his  brow 
was  wrinkled,  his  mouth  threatening,  his 
skin  livid. 

*'  Ciro,  Ciro,  my  child,  answer  me !  " 

He  did  not  answer ;  he  drew  away,  went 
to  his  bed,  and  began  to  undress  in  silence. 
Timidly,  almost  supplicatingly,  I  helped 
him.  I  nearly  died  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
something  against  me  too.  I  knelt  before 
him  to  unlace  his  shoes,  and  I  lingered  long 

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Episcopo  and   Company 

in  this  attitude,  prostrate  on  the  floor  at  his 
feet,  placing  there  the  offering  of  my  heart,  of 
a  heart  heavy  as  a  lump  of  lead,  and  which,  it 
seemed  to  me,  could  never  be  relieved  again. 

"  Papa,  papa ! "  he  cried  suddenly, 
taking  my  temples  in  his  hands ;  and  on 
his  lips  was  the  agonizing  question. 

"  Speak,  speak  !  "  I  implored,  still  kneel- 
ing at  his  feet. 

He  said  no  more,  but  got  into  bed, 
slipped  under  the  covers,  and  buried  his 
head  in  the  pillow.  A  moment  after,  his 
teeth  began  to  chatter,  as  they  sometimes 
did  on  freezing  winter  mornings.  My 
caresses  did  not  quiet  him;  my  words  did 
him  no  good. 

Ah,  sir,  he  who  has  suffered  what  I 
suffered  during  that  hour  deserves  heaven. 
Was  it  only  one  hour  ?  At  last  it  seemed 
to  me  that  Giro  was  more  tranquil.  He 
closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  sleep,  his  face 
gradually  grew  composed,  his  trembling 
ceased.  I  remained  motionless  beside  the 
bed. 

lOI 


Episcopo  and   Company 

Outside,  the  rain  continued  to  fall.  At 
intervals  an  impetuous  gust  shook  the  win- 
dow-panes j  and  Giro  opened  his  eyes 
wide,  then  closed  them  again. 

Each  time  I  said,  "  Sleep,  sleep !  I  am 
here ;  sleep,  my  dear  child  !  "  But  I  was 
afraid ;  I  was  incapable  of  overcoming  my 
fear.  Around  me,  about  me,  I  felt  a  ter- 
rible menace.  And  yet  I  kept  repeating, 
"  Sleep,  sleep." 

A  sharp,  piercing  cry  broke  out  above 
our  heads.  Giro  rose  in  his  bed  with  a 
bound,  and  clutched  my  arm,  breathless, 
terrified. 

"  Papa,  papa,  did  you  hear  ?  " 

We  both  listened,  close  to  one  another ; 
oppressed  by  the  same  fear,  we  listened,  we 
waited. 

Another  cry,  longer,  like  a  person  being 
assassinated,  reached  us  through  the  ceil- 
ing; then  another,  longer,  more  piercing 
yet,  a  cry  that  I  recognized,  for  I  had 
heard  it  before,  one  night  long  ago  — 

"  Galm  yourself;    calm  yourself.       Do 

I02 


Episcopo  and   Company 

not  be  afraid.  It  is  a  woman  in  labor,  on 
the  floor  above;  you  know,  Madame 
Bedetti.  Calm  yourself,  Ciro.  It  is 
nothing." 

But  the  groans,  which  grew  more  and 
more  dreadful,  continued,  pierced  the  wall, 
pierced  our  ears.  It  was  like  the  agony 
of  an  animal  half-slaughtered  by  the 
butcher.     I  had  a  vision  of  blood. 

Then,  instinctively,  we  both  covered 
our  ears  with  our  hands,  awaiting  the  cul- 
mination of  this  agony.  The  groans 
ceased;  the  down-pour  of  rain  began 
again.  Ciro  crouched  underneath  the 
covers,  and  once  more  closed  his  eyes. 
"  Sleep,  sleep,"  I  said  again.  "  I  will  not 
stir." 

Some  time  passed  thus,  how  much  I 
cannot  say.  I  was  in  the  hands  of  des- 
tiny, as  a  victim  is  in  the  power  of  an 
inexorable  conqueror.  Henceforth  I  was 
lost,  irretrievably  lost. 

"  Come,  Giovanni,  Wanzer  is  going  !  " 
Ginevra's  voice !  I  jumped ;  I  noticed 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

that  Giro  trembled  also,  but  his  eye- 
lids did  not  move.  He  was  not  asleep 
then. 

Before  obeying  I  hesitated.  Ginevra 
opened  the  door  and  repeated,  "  Come ; 
Wanzer  is  going." 

I  arose;  I  softly  left  the  room,  in  the 
hope  that  Ciro  would  not  be  aware  of  my 
departure. 

When  I  came  again  into  the  presence 
of  that  man,  I  read  clearly  in  his  eyes  the 
impression  that  I  made.  I  must  have 
looked  to  him  like  a  dying  man,  kept  by 
a  supernatural  force  upon  his  feet.  But 
he  had  no   pity  for  me. 

He  looked  at  me ;  he  spoke  to  me  as  he 
used  to.  He  was  the  master  who  had 
again  found  his  slave.  "  Have  they  been 
scheming  during  their  conversation  ?  "  was 
my  thought.  I  noticed  a  change  in  them 
both.  Ginevra's  voice  when  she  spoke  to 
him  had  not  the  same  tone  as  before. 
When  her  eyes  rested  upon  him,  they 
became  veiled  with  that  veil. 
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Episcopo   and   Company 

''  It  is  raining  so  hard,"  she  said,  "  you 
ought  to  call  a  cab." 

Do  you  understand  ?  She  was  giving 
me  an  order.  Wanzer  did  not  protest. 
It  seemed  quite  natural  to  him  that  I 
should  find  a  cab  for  him.  Had  he  not 
come  to  take  me  back  into  his  service  ? 
And  I  could  barely  stand  upon  my  feet. 
Certainly  they  must  both  have  seen  that 
this  was  so. 

Inconceivable  cruelty  !  But  what  could 
I  do  ?  Refuse  ?  Choose  that  particular 
moment  to  rebel  ?  I  might  have  said,  "  I 
feel  ill."  But  I  did  not ;  I  took  my  hat 
and  umbrella  and  went  out. 

The  gas  in  the  stairway  had  been  ex- 
tinguished. But  in  the  darkness  I  could 
see  a  multitude  of  lights,  and  in  my  brain 
strange,  absurd,  incoherent  thoughts  fol- 
lowed one  another  with  lightning-like 
rapidity.  I  paused  an  instant  going  down, 
because  in  the  gloom  I  felt  the  approach 
of  madness.  But  it  was  nothing.  I  heard 
Ginevra's  laugh  distinctly;  I  heard  the 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

noise  made  by  the  tenants  above.     I  lighted 
a  match  and  went  on. 

Just  as  I  reached  the  entrance  I  heard 
Giro's  voice  calling  me.  I  turned ;  I  went 
quickly  up  the  stairs,  with  an  ease  that 
was  to  me  incomprehensible. 

"  Back  so  soon  ?  "  cried  Ginevra,  when 
she  saw  me. 

I  was  so  out  of  breath  I  could  not  speak. 
At  last  I  murmured  in  despair,  "  Impossi- 
ble —  I  must  go  to  my  room  —  I  am  ill," 
and  I  ran  to  my  son.  "  Did  you  call  me  ? " 
I  said  quickly  as  I  opened  the  door. 

He  was  sitting  up  in  bed  and  seemed  to 
be  listening.  "  No,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  did 
not  call  you." 

But  I  think  he  did  not  tell  the  truth. 
"  Perhaps  you  called  me  in  a  dream  ? 
Were  you  dreaming  just  now  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  was  not  dreaming." 

He  looked  at  me,  disturbed,  suspicious. 
''  But  what  ails  you  ? "   he  asked,  in  his 
turn.     "Why  are  you  so  out  of  breath? 
What  have  you  been  doing  ? " 
io6 


Episcopo  and  Company 

"  Be  quiet,  Giro !  "  I  begged,  avoiding 
a  reply,  and  covering  him  with  kisses. 
''  Here  I  am  beside  you.  I  will  not  stir. 
Sleep  now ;   sleep." 

He  fell  back  on  the  pillow  with  a  sigh. 
Then  to  please  me  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
pretended  to  sleep.  But  after  a  few  mo- 
ments he  opened  them  again,  fixed  them 
wide-open  upon  my  face,  and  said  in  an 
indescribable  tone,  "  He  has  not  gone 
yet." 

From  that  night,  the  tragic  presenti- 
ment never  left  me.  It  was  a  sort  of 
vague,  mysterious  dread,  which  huddled  in 
the  depths  of  my  being,  where  the  light  of 
conscience  could  not  penetrate.  Of  all 
the  internal  mysteries  I  had  discovered  in 
myself,  this  remained  inexplorable  and 
seemed  of  all  the  most  fearful.  I  kept  my 
eye  upon  it;  I  sounded  its  depths  with 
anguish,  with  the  hope  that  it  would  be 
illumined  by  a  sudden  light,  would  be 
revealed  to  me  in  its  completeness.  Some- 
times it  seemed  to  me  that  I  felt  the  un- 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

known  thing  rise,  approach  the  region  of  my 
conscience,  touch  it  almost,  then  all  at 
once  it  would  fall  and  be  again  plunged  in 
shadow,  leaving  me  in  peculiar  and  hitherto 
unknown  distress.  Do  you  understand  ? 
To  understand  me,  imagine,  sir,  that  you 
stood  on  the  edge  of  a  well,  whose  depth 
you  could  not  measure.  This  well  is 
lighted  down  to  a  certain  level  by  natural 
light ;  but  you  know  that  lower  down,  in 
the  darkness,  is  concealed  some  unknown 
and  terrible  thing.  You  do  not  see  it,  but 
you  have  a  feeling  that  it  moves  about. 
Little  by  little  the  thing  rises,  it  comes  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  shadow,  where  you 
cannot  yet  distinguish  it.  A  little  more, 
only  a  little  more,  and  you  will  see  it. 
But  the  thing  stops,  drops  back,  keeps  out 
of  sight,  and  leaves  you  troubled,  deceived, 
astonished. 

No,  no,  —  childishness,  mere  childish- 
ness.    You  cannot  understand. 

These  are  the  facts.  A  few  days  later 
Wanzer  took  possession  of  my  apartments, 
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Episcopo  and  Company 

came  to  live  with  me,  was  installed  as  a 
boarder;  and  in  consequence  I  contin- 
ued to  be  a  slave,  to  tremble.  Is  there 
any  need  of  showing  you  what  followed  ? 
Is  there  any  need  of  explaining  it  to  you  ? 
Does  anything  about  it  seem  strange  to 
you  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  of  Giro's  sufferings 
his  dumb,  repressed  anger,  his  bitter  words, 
to  which  I  should  have  preferred  any  poison, 
no  matter  what  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  of  his 
cries  and  his  sobs,  which  suddenly  broke 
forth  in  the  night,  and  which  made  my 
hair  stand  on  end;  or  of  the  frightful 
corpse-like  rigidity  which  his  body  took  on 
in  bed ;  and  of  his  tears,  tears  which  some- 
times began  to  flow  without  cause,  one  by 
one,  from  his  pure  wide-open  eyes  which 
never  grew  red  or  inflamed  ?  Ah,  sir, 
you  must  have  seen  this  child  weep  to  see 
how  the  soul  weeps.  We  have  deserved 
heaven.  Oh,  Jesus,  Jesus,  have  we  not 
deserved  heaven  ? 

Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you.     I  can  go 
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Episcopo  and   Company 

on.  Let  me  go  on  now,  or  I  shall  never 
get  to  the  end.  We  are  nearing  it,  you 
know.  We  are  nearing  it ;  we  are  there. 
What  day  is  to-day  ?  The  twenty-sixth  of 
July  ?  Well,  it  was  on  the  ninth  of  July, 
the  ninth  of  this  month.  It  seems  like  a 
century  ;   it  seems  like  yesterday. 

I  was  in  the  back  shop  of  a  pharmacy, 
bending  over  my  desk  at  work  on  some 
accounts,  —  exhausted  by  weariness  and 
heat,  eaten  up  by  flies,  sickened  by  the 
smell  of  drugs.  It  might  have  been  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  I  often  stopped 
my  work  to  think  of  Giro,  who  for  several 
days  had  not  been  as  well  as  usual.  In 
my  heart  I  could  see  his  face,  grown  thin 
by  suffering  and  pale  as  a  candle.  Note 
one  circumstance,  sir.  Through  a  case- 
ment in  the  wall  behind  me,  and  above  my 
head,  there  fell  a  ray  of  sunlight. 

Note  also  these  other  circumstances.  A 
boy,  a  fat  young  fellow,  was  lying  quietly 
asleep  on  some  bags,  and  quantities  of  flies 
were  buzzing  about  him,  as  about  a  carcass. 


Episcopo  and   Company 

The  proprietor,  the  druggist,  entered  and 
went  to  a  corner,  where  there  was  a  basin. 
He  had  the  nose-bleed ;  and  as  he  leaned 
over,  in  order  not  to  spot  his  shirt,  the  blood 
dripped  on  the  floor. 

Several  minutes  passed  in  a  silence  so 
profound  that  life  seemed  suspended.  No 
customer  came  in,  no  carriage  passed,  the 
boy  did  not  snore  again. 

All  at  once  I  heard  Giro's  voice, 
"  Where  is  papa  ?  " 

And  then  I  saw  him,  —  in  this  low 
room,  amongst  the  sacks  and  barrels  and 
piles  of  soap ;  slender,  almost  diaphanous, 
with  the  look  of  a  spirit,  —  I  saw  him 
appear  before  me  like  an  hallucination. 
Beads  of  sweat  stood  out  upon  his  forehead, 
his  lips  trembled,  and  he  seemed  to  be  in- 
spired by  savage  energy. 

"  You,  here,  at  this  hour  ? "  I  cried. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Come,  papa,  come." 

"  But  tell  me  what  has  happened  ?  '* 

"  Come ;   come  with  me." 

Ill  X 


Episcopo   and   Company 

His  voice  was  low  but  resolute.  I 
dropped  everything,  saying,  "  I  will  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

And  I  went  out  with  him,  unnerved,  my 
legs  shaking  beneath  me.  Giro  took  my 
hand. 

"  You  do  not  speak  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  I  asked  for  the  third  time,  in 
spite  of  the  fear  I  had  of  what  he  might 
say. 

"  Come,  come  with  me ;  Wanzer  is 
beating  her  —  he  has  beaten  her  — " 
Rage  strangled  his  voice  in  his  throat.  He 
seemed  to  be  incapable  of  saying  more. 
He  hurried  his  step ,   he  dragged  me  along. 

''  I  saw  it ;  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes," 
he  continued.  "  From  my  room  I  heard 
loud  voices,  I  heard  words  —  Wanzer  was 
abusing  her,  calling  her  all  sorts  of  names, 
such  names  —  you  understand.  And  I 
saw  him  when  he  fell  upon  her,  with 
clenched  fists,  saying,  'Take  that,  and 
that,  and  that ! '  On  the  face,  on  the 
breast,  on  the  shoulders,  everywhere,  and 


Episcopo  and   Company 

so  hard,  so  hard  !  '  Take  that  and  that  ! ' 
And  he  called  her  all  sorts  of  names,  you 
know  which  ones." 

Unrecognizable  this  voice ;  hoarse,  sharp, 
interrupted  by  a  choking  that  showed  such 
wild  hatred  that  I  thought  with  terror, 
"  He  will  fall ;  he  will  fall  on  the  pavement 
from  anger !  " 

He  did  not  fall ;  he  continued  to  hasten 
his  step,  to  drag  me  on  in  this  cruel  sun- 
shine. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  tried  to  hide  ? 
Do  you  think  that  I  was  afraid  ?  No,  no, 
I  was  not  afraid ;  I  rushed  at  him,  I  began 
to  cry  out  at  him,  I  seized  him  by  the  legs, 
I  bit  his  hand  —  I  had  not  the  strength  to 
do  anything  else.  He  threw  me  down, 
then  he  seized  mamma  again,  and  took 
her  by  the  hair —  Oh,  the  coward,  the 
coward  !  " 

The  choking   interrupted   him.     "  The 

coward,    he    took    her    by    the    hair,    he 

dragged  her  to  the  window  —  he  tried  to 

throw  her  down  —     At  last  he  let  her  go, 

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Episcopo   and   Company 

saying,  '  I  will  leave  you ;  if  I  do  not,  I 
shall  kill  you.'  Those  are  his  own  words. 
And  he  went ;  he  left  the  house  —  Ah,  if  I 
had  only  had  a  knife  !  "  The  choking  again 
interrupted.  We  were  in  the  Via  San 
Basilio,  which  was  at  the  time  deserted. 
For  fear  that  he  would  fall,  or  that  I 
should,  I  said,  ''  Stop,  stop  a  moment, 
Giro !  Stop  one  moment  here  in  the 
shade.     I  can  go  no  further." 

''  No,  we  must  hasten ;  we  must  get 
there  in  time —  What  if  Wanzer  were 
to  come  back  to  the  house  to  kill  her? 
Mamma  was  afraid;  she  was  afraid  he 
would  come  back  and  kill  her.  I  heard 
her  tell  Marie  to  get  a  bag  and  to  put 
some  things  in  it  for  her,  that  she  was 
going  to  leave  Rome  at  once  —  was  going, 
I  think,  to  Tivoli  —  to  Aunt  Amelia.  We 
must  get  there  in  time.  Shall  you  let  her 
go?" 

He  stopped,  but  only  to  look  straight 
into   my   face   and  to    await    my   answer. 
"  No,  no,"  I  murmured. 
114 


Episcopo  and  Company 

"And  he,  shall  you  let  him  return  to 
the  house  ?  Shall  you  say  nothing  to  him  ? 
Shall  you  do  nothing  to  him  ? " 

I  did  not  reply,  and  Ciro  did  not  see 
that  I  was  nearly  dead  from  shame  and 
sorrow.  He  did  not  see  it,  for  after  a 
short  silence,  in  a  voice  which  was  no 
longer  the  same  as  a  few  moments  before, 
in  a  voice  which  trembled  with  deep  feel- 
ing, he  cried  unexpectedly,  "  Papa,  papa, 
you  are  not  afraid  ?  You  are  not  afraid  of 
him^  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  I  murmured. 

And  we  continued  our  walk  in  the  sun- 
light, across  the  ruined  terraces  of  the 
Villa  Ludovisi,  among  the  drooping  trees, 
the  piles  of  bricks,  the  lime-pits  which 
attracted  and  dazzled  me.  "  Better  die, 
better  die  burned  alive  in  one  of  these 
pits,"  I  thought,  "than  to  face  the  un- 
known event."  But  Ciro  had  taken  my 
hand  again,  and  was  dragging  me  blindly 
toward  my  destiny. 

We  arrived ;  we  went  up. 
"5 


Episcopo   and   Company 

"  Have  you  the  key  ?  "  asked  Giro. 

I  had  it ;  I  opened  the  door.  Giro 
entered  first.  He  called,  "  Mamma, 
mamma  !  "     No  answer. 

"  Marie !  " 

No  answer.  The  house  was  empty, 
full  of  light  and  of  a  suspicious  silence. 
"  Already  gone  !  "  said  Giro.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

He  entered  the  chamber.  "  This  is  the 
place,"  he  said. 

There  was  still  an  overturned  chair.  I 
saw  on  the  floor  a  bent  pin  and  a  red  bow. 
Giro,  whose  eyes  followed  mine,  stooped, 
picked  up  some  very  long  hairs,  held  them 
out  to  me  and  said,  "  Do  you  see  ?  "  His 
fingers  and  his  lips  trembled  ;  but  his  energy 
was  gone,  his  strength  was  weakening.  I 
saw  him  tremble;  I  saw  him  faint  in  my 
arms.  "  Giro,  Giro,"  I  cried,  "  my  darling 
son ! " 

He  was  lifeless.  I  don't  know  what  I 
did  to  overcome  the  weakness  which  at- 
tacked me.  The  thought  struck  me, 
ii6 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  What  if  Wanzer  should  be  coming  in, 
now,  at  this  very  moment  ? "  I  do  not 
know  how  I  managed  to  hold  the  poor 
child,  to  carry  him  to  his  bed. 

He  regained  consciousness.  "  You 
must  rest,"  I  said.  "  Shall  I  undress  you  ? 
You  have  a  fever.  I  will  call  a  doctor. 
Shall  I  undress  you  gently  ?  Do  you 
want  me  to  ?  " 

I  spoke  these  words,  I  accomplished 
these  acts,  as  though  nothing  were  going 
to  happen  after  them,  as  if  the  banalities  of 
daily  life,  as  if  the  care  I  gave  my  child, 
was  to  be  that  day  my  only  business.  But 
I  felt,  I  knew,  I  was  sure  that  it  was  to  be 
otherwise,  that  it  could  not  but  be  other- 
wise. One  thought,  one  single  thought, 
tortured  my  brain ;  one  single  hope,  one 
agonizing  hope,  gnawed  my  vitals.  The 
slow  horror  that  had  been  accumulating 
in  the  depths  of  my  being,  was  spreading 
now  over  the  whole  substance  of  me,  was 
making  my  hair  alive  from  its  roots  to 
its  tips. 

117 


Episcopo  and   Company 

"  Let  me  undress  you  and  put  you  to 
bed,"  I  repeated. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  I  wish  to  remain 
dressed." 

Neither  his  strange  tone  nor  his  peculiar 
words,  serious  as  they  were,  prevented  my 
constant  repetition  of  his  simple  and  ter- 
rible question,  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  What  are  you 
going  to  do?  ^^ 

I  could  conceive  of  no  possible  action. 
It  was  impossible  for  me  to  make  a  plan, 
to  imagine  a  solution,  to  think  out  either 
an  attack  or  a  defence.  Time  was  pass- 
ing ;  nothing  was  happening  —  I  ought 
to  have  gone  for  a  doctor  for  Giro. 

But  would  Giro  have  consented  to  let 
me  go  out  ?  Supposing  he  had  consented, 
he  would  have  been  left  alone.  And  then 
I  might  have  met  Wanzer  on  the  stairs. 
And  then  ?  Or  Wanzer  might  have 
returned  during  my  absence.     And  then  ? 

According  to  Giro's  commands,  I  was 
not  to  allow  Wanzer  to  come  in  again  \  I 
u8 


Episcopo  and   Company 

was  to  say  something,  do  something  to 
him.  Well !  I  might  have  bolted  the 
door  on  the  inside,  and  then  Wanzer 
could  not  have  opened  it  with  a  key. 
But  he  would  have  pulled  the  bell,  he 
would  have  knocked,  he  would  have  made 
a  great  racket.     And  then  ? 

We  waited.  Ciro  was  lying  on  his 
bed.  I  was  seated  beside  him,  and  I 
held  one  of  his  hands  and  felt  his  pulse. 
The  beats  increased  with  frightful  ra- 
pidity. 

We  did  not  speak.  We  seemed  to  hear 
a  thousand  sounds,  but  it  was  only  the 
tumult  in  our  veins.  We  saw  a  back- 
ground of  blue  through  the  window;  the 
swallows  dipped  as  they  flew,  as  if  to 
enter;  a  breath  seemed  to  stir  the  cur- 
tains ;  there  was  an  exact  reflection  of  the 
square  window  on  the  tiled  floor,  and  the 
shadows  of  the  swallows  played  upon  it. 
But  these  things  were  not  real  to  me  : 
they  were  only  appearances;  it  was  not 
life  any  more,  only  its  simulacrum.  My 
119 


Episcopo   and   Company 

very  anguish  seemed  fanciful.  How  much 
time  passed  thus  ? 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  Giro  said  j  ''  give  me  a 
glass   of  water." 

I  rose  to  get  him  a  drink,  but  the  carafe 
on  the  table  was  empty.  I  took  it,  saying, 
"  I  will  fill  it  in  the  kitchen."  I  left  the 
room  ;  I  went  to  the  kitchen ;  I  put  the 
carafe  under  the  faucet. 

The  kitchen  was  next  the  ante-room. 
My  ear  caught  distinctly  the  sound  of  a 
key  turning  in  the  lock.  I  was  petrified  ;  / 
could  not  move.  At  last  I  heard  the  door 
open,  and  I  recognized  Wanzer's  step. 

"  Ginevra  !  "  he  called. 

No  answer.  He  took  several  steps  for- 
ward ;  he  called  again,"  Ginevra !"  Silence. 
More  steps.  Evidently  he  was  looking  in 
the  bedroom  for  her.     Still  I  could  not  move. 

Suddenly  my  child  uttered  a  cry  which 
instantly  freed  my  rigid  members.  My 
eyes  turned  to  a  long  knife  which  shone 
on  the  sideboard,  and  my  hand  clutched  it. 
Prodigious  strength  filled  my  arm ;  I  felt 
1 20 


Episcopo  and   Company 


myself  carried,  as  on  a  wave,  to  the  door 
of  my  son's  room  ;  and  I  saw  my  son 
clinging  with  feline  fury  to  Wanzer's 
great  body;  and  I  saw  Wanzer's  hands 
upon  my  son  — 

Two,  three,  four  times,  I  plunged  the 
knife  into  his  spine  up  to  the  blade. 

Ah,  sir,  for  charity's  sake  do  not  leave  | 
me  alone  !  Before  night  falls,  I  will  die* 
I  promise  you  I  will  die.  Then  you  may 
go ;  you  will  close  my  eyes  and  go  away. 
But,  no,  I  will  not  even  ask  that  j  I  myself, 
before  I  die,  will  close  my  own  eyes. 

Look  at  my  hand.  It  has  touched  the 
eyelids  of  that  man,  and  it  has  turned 
yellow —  Those  eyelids,  I  wanted  to 
close  them  because  Ciro  kept  sitting  up  in 
bed  and  crying,  "  Papa,  papa,  he  is  looking 
at  me  !  " 

How  could  he  have  looked  at  him, 
covered  as  he  was  ?  Can  the  dead  look 
through  sheets  ? 

The  left  eyelid  resisted,  cold,  cold  — 

121 


Episcopo   and   Company 

How  much  blood  !  Is  it  possible  that 
a  man  contains  a  sea  of  blood  !  The  veins 
hardly  show ;  they  are  so  delicate  you  can 
barely  distinguish  them.  And  yet  —  there 
was  no  place  left  where  I  could  put  my 
foot,  my  shoes  were  soaked  like  two 
sponges  —  strange,  was  it  not  ?  —  like  two 
sponges. 

One  of  them,  so  much  blood ;  and  the 
other  not  a  drop,  —  a  lily.  Oh,  God,  a 
lily  !      Is  there  anything  so  white  on  earth  ? 

Lilies,  only  lilies ! 

But,  look,  look,  sir !  What  is  happening 
to  me  !     What  is  it  I  feel  ? 

Before  night  falls,  oh,  before  night  — 

A  swallow  came  in. 

Let  it  come ;  let  the  swallow  come  in. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  BATE 
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WILL   BE   ASSESSED    FOR    FAILURE   TO    RETURN 
THIS   BOOK  ON   THE   DATE  DUE.      THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY     AND     TO     $1.00     ON     THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

SEP  15   1932 

DEC    5    1932 

NOV    21  Wh.  =. 

DEC    5    1S45  ly 

JUL  261934 

APR   3     1837 

14Sep'55PT 

^^rJ2lB40 

j^|rp7     ^9^5' 

4Jan'56JiZ 

MAR  21  1943 

DEC  17 1955  LU 
JAN  17 1958 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  gAIylFORNIA  lylBRARY 


